iliii 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


TEMPTATIONS 

A  BOOK  OF  SHORT  STORIES 


TEMPTATIONS 

A  BOOK  OF  SHORT  STORIES 

BY 

DAVID  PINSKI 

AUTHORIZED   TRANSLATION   FROM 
THE  YIDDISH  BY 

DR.    ISAAC   GOLDBERG 


NEW  YORK 

BRENTANO'S 
1919 


Copyright,  1919,  by 
BRENTANO'S 


SI 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

vii 


Introduction 

Beruriah 3 

The  Temptations  of  Rabbi  Akiba       ...     83 

JOHANAN  THE  HiGH  FrIEST      .        .       •       •       •       •     lO^ 

Zerubbabel ^31 

Drabkin:  a  Novelette  of  Proletarian  Life  171 

The  Black  Cat ^55 

A  Tale  of  a  Hungry  Man 277 

In  the  Storm 3^ 


LIBRARY 


T 


INTRODUCTION 

HE   same  traits    that   distinguish   David 
_       Pinski  as  a  playwright  characterise  him 
also  as  a  writer  of  short  fiction.     The  noted 
Yiddish   author  is  concerned   chiefly  with   the 
probing  of  the  human  soul,— not  that  intangible 
and  inconsequential  theme  of  so  many  vapour- 
ings,    dubbed   mystic   and   symbolistic   by   the 
literary  labellers,— but  the  hidden  mainspring 
that  initiates,   and  often  guides,   our   actions. 
Pinski  seeks  to  penetrate   into  the   secret   of 
human  motive.     It  is  not  enough  for  him  to 
depict  the  deed;  he  would  plumb,  if  possible,  the 
genetic  impulse.     That  is  why,  if  he  must  be 
classified,  one  places  him  among  the  psychologi- 
cal realists.     He  is  at  his  best  faithful  to  both 
the  inner  and  the  outer  life. 

Thus  we  find,  in  his  numerous  stories  and 
plays,  very  little  of  the  conventional  heroism 


vu 


vIH  INTRODUCTION 

and  villainlsm  with  which  most  authors  are  con- 
cerned, and  very  much  of  the  deeply  human  at 
which  the  majority  of  authors  shake  their  heads. 
This  is  not  to  say  that  Pinski's  work  lacks  heroic 
figures;  on  the  contrary,  in  a  measure  it  consti- 
tutes a  series  of  noble  and  ennobling  portraits, 
representing  men  and  women  who  meet  life  face 
to  face  and  are  scorched  by  its  flames.  So,  too, 
there  are  less  inspiring  personages  who  compro- 
mise with  life  and  their  better  selves.  And  in 
the  background  lurks  our  common  humanity, 
faintly  quick  with  the  potentiahties  of  ignominy 
or  greatness. 

Despite  his  growing  fame  as  one  of  the  most 
significant  dramatists  now  active,  PinskI  began 
his  career  as  a  writer  of  short  stories.  He  has 
been  recognised  as  the  first  Yiddish  author  to 
give  artistic  treatment  to  the  Yiddish  prole- 
tariat, and  no  small  part  of  his  life  has  been 
sacrificed  to  the  cause  of  the  oppressed  and  the 
disinherited.  His  earlier  works,  both  in  fiction 
and  in  the  drama,  were  devoted  to  the  depiction 
of  life  among  the  lowly,  and  it  is  characteristic 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

of  the  man  that  he  does  not  allow  his  personal 
views  to  mar  his  artistic  product. 

It  may  be  said  that  three  chief  periods  have 
thus  far  appeared  in  the  labours  of  the  Yiddish 
author.  First  there  is  his  proletarian  "manner" 
in  which  the  life,  problems  and  aspirations  of 
the  Jewish  workingman  are  portrayed  in  such 
masterly  dramas  as  "Isaac  Sheftel"  (written  at 
the  age  of  twenty-seven)  and  such  incisive  com- 
mentaries as  the  best  of  the  early  tales,  "Drab- 
kin."  Then  there  is  the  genre  of  the  biblical  re- 
construction, in  which  ancient  themes  are  util- 
ised for  the  purpose  of  producing  thoroughly 
contemporary  works  of  art.  Among  his  plays 
"The  Dumb  Messiah"  and  "Mary  Magdalen" 
represent  this  phase  of  his  skill,  while  among 
the  stories,  "Zerubbabel"  and  "Beruriah" 
would  come  under  this  category. 

There  is  also  the  treatment  of  sex  problems, 
as  evidenced  by  such  plays  as  "Jacob  the  Black- 
smith" and  "Gabri  and  the  Women,"  and  tales 
like  "The  Awakening"  and  "The  Black  Cat." 


X  INTRODUCTION 

I  must  confess  that  I  am  not  greatly  con- 
cerned with  the  periods  and  "manners"  of  au- 
thors; classification  has  little  to  do  with  genuine 
literary  appreciation.  This  is  all  the  more  true 
in  a  case  like  Pinskl's,  since  the  various  phases 
of  his  work  follow  no  chronological  order,  and 
often  appear  side  by  side,  as  it  were,  in  the  same 
work.  Take  for  instance  the  first  tale  in  this 
book,  "Beruriah,"  which  I  consider  one  of  the 
greatest  short  stories  ever  written,  insofar  as 
the  wide  reading  of  a  single  person  in  some  half 
dozen  or  more  languages  can  substantiate  such  a 
statement.  Who  shall  say  that  the  tale  is  mere 
reconstruction  or  elaboration  of  a  Talmudic 
legend,  or  a  problem  In  love,  or  a  psychological 
study,  or  even  a  symbolic  story?  It  Is  all  of 
these,  and  something  more.  Who  shall  say  that 
"Drabkin"  Is  merely  a  proletarian  narrative? 
To  be  sure,  the  background  is  furnished  by  the 
humble  Jewish  operatives,  but  is  the  tale  itself 
any  the  less  universal  on  that  account?  Is  it  any 
the  less  a  problem  in  love?  Is  it  any  the  less  a 
satire  upon  human  foibles,  with  the  same  essen- 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

tial  theme  as  Pinskl's  remarkable  work  of 
genius,  "The  Treasure,"— one  of  the  outstand- 
ing dramas  of  the  century? 

The  truth  is  that  Pinski  harmonises  and  ren- 
ders universal  almost  everything  he  touches. 
From  an  insignificant  three  or  four  line  sugges- 
tion in  the  Talmud  he  elaborates  a  "Beruriah," 
producing  one  of  the  most  striking  female  por- 
traits that  has  come  from  an  author  peculiarly 
rich  in  well-drawn  women.  Out  of  various 
strands  from  Jewish  history  he  weaves  a 
"Zerubbabel,"  which  flames  with  a  Jewish  pa- 
triotism particularly  contemporary  in  applica- 
tion. Nor  is  this  intense  devotion  any  more  ex- 
clusively Jewish  than  the  crumbling  of  world- 
philosophies  depicted  in  the  epic  play,   "The 

Last  Jew." 

This  human  and  universal  touch  is  rendered 
all  the  more  evident  by  the  author's  attitude, 
both  in  life  and  in  the  stories  that  are  the  prod- 
uct of  his  actual  experience,  toward  the  op- 
pressed and  the  disinherited  whose  champion  he 
is.    With  him  the  independence  of  the  writer  is 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

almost  a  religion;  so  much  so  that  he  is  just  as 
ready  to  voice  fearlessly  the  faults  of  his  own 
people  as  he  is  to  glorify  their  historic  and 
racial  virtues.  He  reveals  them  to  themselves, 
and  Is  as  little  compromising  with  them  as  with 
any  other.  If  he  knows  their  nobility,  he  knows, 
too,  their  pettiness;  he  sees  them  in  their  chmb 
up  Mount  Sinai  to  talk  with  the  Lord,  and  in 
their  grovelling  over  the  heaps  of  mire  called 
money-making. 

Yet  It  Is  no  part  of  his  art  or  his  purpose  to 
sit  In  judgment.  Indeed,  one  of  the  noblest 
notes  arising  from  the  author's  work  as  a  whole 
Is  the  spirit  of  "Judge  not."  This  human  note 
rings  from  "Mary  Magdalene"  (an  entirely 
original  treatment  of  the  fecund  theme,  supe- 
rior, In  my  opinion,  to  both  Paul  Heyse's  and 
Maurice  Maeterlinck's  plays  upon  the  same  sub- 
ject) as  from  the  excellent  tales  "The  Tempta- 
tion of  Rabbi  Akiba"  and  "High  Priest  Jo- 
hanan."  He  who  beholds  in  such  stories  as 
these  only  a  biblical  or  religious  strain,  misses 
more  than  half  of  their  beauty.     Rabbi  Akiba 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

and  High  Priest  Johanan  are  not  spirits  of  an 
ancient  age,  individuals  of  a  departed  civilisa- 
tion. Far  from  it.  They  are  you  and  I. 
"Beruriah"  is  by  no  means  the  virtuous  wife  of 
an  overwrought  Rabbi.  She  is  an  eternal  type; 
she  can  be  found  In  the  Talmud,  in  the  Icelandic 
sagas,  in  a  play  by  Ibsen,  in  a  novel  by  Hardy; 
she  is  Antigone,  she  is  Candida;  she  is  the  soul 
of  woman  clothed  in  tragic  beauty. 

Pinski's  tales,  then,  of  which  the  following 
comprise  the  first  series,  demand  universal  ap- 
preciation but  little  less  than  his  dramas. 
Theirs  is  that  rare  beauty  which  is  an  indis- 
soluble union  of  manner  and  matter.  In  the 
original,  they  represent  the  mo9t  melodious 
Yiddish  that  has  been  written, — a  powerful  ref- 
utation of  the  unthinking  scorn  of  those  who 
refer  to  the  tongue  as  a  jargon.  They  are  for 
men  and  women  who  read  with  the  mind  as  well 
as  the  eye. 

Isaac  Goldberg. 

Roxbury,  Mass. 

March,  19 19. 


BERURIAH 


DEDICATED 

TO  THE   EVERLASTING  MEMORY  OF 
MY  BELOVED   LITTLE    SON 

GABRI 

(Born  March  ii,  1909;  Died  August  14,  1916) 


This  tale,  which  I  began  forty-two  hours  before 
his  death,  in  the  happy  certainty  that  his  slight 
illness  would  quickly  pass,  and  without  the 
slightest  presentiment  that  I  and  his  wonderful 
mother  would  scon  have  to  seek  consolation  in  it. 

The  Author 


BERURIAH 


BLESSED  with  all  the  virtues  was  Beru- 
riah,  wife  of  the  noted  Master,  Rabbi 
Mayer.  It  was  at  the  time  that  God's  heart 
was  filled  with  pity  for  the  Jewish  people,  which 
had  just  lost  its  independence  and  its  freedom, 
and  from  under  His  heavenly  throne  He  sum- 
moned her  soul,  and  sent  her  down  to  earth. 
"Go,  and  rejoice  the  hearts  of  the  wretched 
and  exiled.  Go,  and  bring  gladness  to  the  sad 
and  mournful.  Let  him  that  beholds  you  know 
that  life  is  worth  the  living,  and  understand 
that  he  has  an  Almighty  Lord  who  can  create 
glory,  and  let  him  praise  and  bless  my  Name." 
And  therefore  was  she  called  Beruriah, — 
the  chosen  of  God.     The  Romans,  however, 

called  her  Valeria, — the  blessed  one. 

3 


4  TEMPTATIONS 

So  beautiful  she  was,  that  at  the  most  glo« 
rious  sunset,  the  eyes  of  the  worshipful  onlook- 
ers wandered  from  the  sun  to  her  and  from  her 
to  the  sun,  and  none  could  be  sure  which  was 
the  greater  beauty  or  which  the  greater  miracle. 
But  at  the  consecration  of  the  moon  she  dare 
not  show  herself  upon  the  street,  lest  the  moon 
take  flight  before  the  greater  beauty,  and  pious 
Jews  be  helpless  quite  to  bless  It.  Whenever 
she  walked  along  the  way,  all  passers-by  stood 
still,  lest  they  fall  Into  a  ditch  at  their  feet  or 
stumble  across  a  rock  In  their  path,  for  all 
eyes  were  turned  only  upon  her.  And  those  who 
tolled  heavily  were  wont  to  say,  when  they  had 
beheld  her,  "The  sight  was  even  as  balm  to 
our  weary  limbs.  Now  will  our  labours  once 
again  seem  light."  And  those  who  sat  within 
doors  also  said,  "Was  not  our  house  just  ra- 
diant with  a  loving  glow?  Beruriah  must  have 
passed  beneath  our  window."  And  then  the 
sages  introduced  a  new  blessing,  with  which 
Jews  should  hymn  the  praises  of  the  Lord  for 
having  shared  His  beauty  with  a  mortal. 


BERURIAH  5 

Wise  was  she,  too;  so  that  the  old  men  of 
her  time  queried,  "Shall  we  not  don  women's 
garb  and  surrender  our  men's  habits  to  her? 
For  before  her  we  are  like  old  women  in  whom 
the  little  sense  they  had  has  long  evaporated, 
while  she  possesses  the  wisdom  of  all  our  years 
added  together."  And  when  a  husband  scolded 
his  wife,  saying  that  women  had  much  hair  but 
little  brains,  the  wife  would  retort:  "And  what 
of  Beruriah?"  Then  the  husband  would  see 
that  he  had  been  hasty,  and  that  his  own  wife 
was  more  clever  than  he,  since  she  had  so 
cunningly  reminded  him  of  Beruriah.  Where- 
upon the  sages  introduced  a  new  blessing,  with 
which  Jews  should  chant  the  praises  of  the 
Lord  for  having  shared  His  wisdom  with  a 
mortal. 

But  Beruriah  was  deeply  learned,  too.  In 
the  written  lore  of  the  Holy  Law  she  was  as 
sure  as  if  she  trod  upon  a  beaten  path,  and  the 
oral  commentaries  reposed  within  her  as  se- 
curely as  sacred  books  within  their  closet. 
Great  keenness  of  intellect  in  her  was  merged 


6  TEMPTATIONS 

with  clear  simplicity,  and  the  Torah  is  a  field 
that  may  be  worked  with  these  tools  alone. 
Many  a  tangle  did  Beruriah  unravel,  and  many 
an  obscure  spot  did  she  illuminate.  Her  word 
and  her  interpretations  were  esteemed  as  highly 
as  those  of  her  own  husband,  the  renowned 
Talmudist  Rabbi  Mayer.  But  of  this  same 
Rabbi  Mayer,  who  was  the  greatest  of  his 
epoch,  and  who  was  so  subtle  that  he  could 
demonstrate  the  purity  of  a  reptile  in  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  different  ways,  it  was  said: 
"Small  wonder  that  he  knows  so  much  and  that 
he  is  so  acute.     For  Beruriah  is  his  wifel" 

Rabbi  Mayer,  however,  heeded  the  words 
but  little,  and  felt  no  affront,  for  he  was  very 
proud  of  her  and  loved  her  boundlessly.  And 
every  day  he  would  utter  in  his  prayers,  "A 
wondrous  jewel  hast  Thou  created,  and  of  all 
Thy  servants.  Thou  hast  chosen  me  to  be  illu- 
minated by  its  brilliancy.  How  shall  I  thank 
Thee,  God?" 


BERURIAH  7 

II 

And  Rabble  Mayer's  students  said,  "Beru- 
riah  has  been  blessed  with  all  the  virtues, 
and  she  is  to  Rabbi  Mayer  a  wondrous  jewel 
with  which  God  has  chosen  to  glorify  our  mas- 
ter; yet  is  not  her  heart  but  the  weak  heart  of  a 
woman?  And  even  as  the  flashes  of  the  jewel, 
do  not  human  passions  play  and  contend  within 
her?  Who  can  assure  us  that  her  ears  are 
sealed  against  the  seductive  speeches  that  fall 
upon  her  like  glowing  sparks  and  melt  her  heart 
like  wax?  Blessed,  too,  with  all  the  virtues  was 
Mother  Eve,  of  whom  all  later  generations  of 
women  are  but  a  reflection,  and  yet  her  ears 
were  open  to  the  serpent.  And  where  Eve  suc- 
cumbed, surely  Beruriah  will  not  be  able  to 
resist." 

Thus  spoke  Rabbi  Mayer's  pupils  among 
themselves,  until  at  last  it  came  to  the  ears  of 
the  great  Teacher.  At  first  he  was  deeply  In- 
censed and  his  anger  boiled  like  the  seething 
waters  of  a  fiery  cauldron.     He  wished  to  con- 


8  TEMPTATIONS 

front  his  disciples  in  all  his  fury  and  drive  them 
forth.  How  dare  they  question  her  virtue 
and  her  purity, — her  will  of  steel  against  all 
tempting  tongues!  Was  not  Beruriah  a  holi- 
day-child of  God's,  and  did  not  he  who  insulted 
her  desecrate  the  holy  day, — was  he  not  a  sin- 
ner unworthy  of  sitting  before  Rabbi  Mayer, 
hearing  him  expound  the  Torah? 

But  he  who  could  demonstrate  the  purity  of 
a  reptile  In  one  hundred  and  fifty  different  ways, 
soon  changed  his  course  of  thought.  Were  he 
to  drive  forth  his  disciples  for  the  doubt  they 
had  uttered  regarding  Beruriah,  they  would 
take  leave  and  declare,  "Had  we  been  wrong  in 
our  doubts  Rabbi  Mayer  would  have  laughed 
us  to  scorn,  and  would  soon  have  forgotten  our 
words.  But  because  they  are  well-founded  he 
flew  at  once  into  a  rage  and  cast  us  forth  from 
him." 

His  seething  anger  became  now  an  immense 
scorn,  but  his  sharp  mind  kept  thinking  further : 
Wicked  Is  man's  tongue  and  low  the  doubts  of 
his  heart.    To  prove  the  purity  of  a  reptile  one 


BERURIAH  9 

must  be  a  Rabbi  Mayer,  but  to  render  a  Beru- 
rlah  impure,  one  need  be  merely  a  reptile.  They 
would  not  cease  talking  until  the  day  on  which 
she  died,  and  when  her  glorious  soul  would  de- 
part from  her  glorious  body,  unsullied  and  pure 
of  sin,  they  would  say,  "She  died  pure,  because 
no  serpent  tested  her, — because  the  Lord  never 
tried  her  with  temptations."  And  they  would 
speak  even  more:  "God  tries  the  strong  alone; 
and  knowing  how  weak  was  Beruriah's  heart 
against  the  tempter,  He  did  not  try  her  and 
shielded  her  from  seduction." 

At  this  thought  an  oppressive  weakness  over- 
powered his  entire  body,  and  his  high  forehead 
was  bedewed  with  sweat.  What  was  he  to  do 
to  keep  the  venomous  tongues  from  stinging 
Beruriah?  How  was  he  to  act  so  that  every 
thought  of  her  should  be  as  pure  as  her  own 
heart? 

His  deep  wisdom  pondered,  and  soon  whis- 
pered a  reply:    "Let  them  test  her  I" 

A  shudder  rippled  through  him,  and  it  was 
as  if  he  must  feel  shame  before  the  four  walls 


lo  TEMPTATIONS 

in  whose  shelter  he  had  dared  to  think  such 
thoughts.  Yet  he  could  not  free  himself  from 
that  one  suggestion;  it  was  the  one  way  out. 
Through  such  a  test  of  Beruriah  all  evil  mouths 
would  be  stopped  forever,  and  all  would  see 
that  his  wife  Beruriah  had  a  heart  as  pure  as 
her  spirit, — that  her  virtue  was  as  great  as  her 
beauty, — that  her  fidelity  to  him  was  as  great 
as  her  wisdom.  And  then  indeed  would  they 
behold  how  great  was  God's  grace  to  their 
generation,  in  which  Beruriah  lived, — and  how 
great  was  he  himself  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord 
that  he  should  have  been  given  her  for  a  wife. 
And  Rabbi  Mayer  pondered  for  one  day,  and 
two,  and  three.  He  lost  all  desire  for  food, 
and  sleep  forsook  him.  Ideas  multiplied  within 
him  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning;  one  thought 
generated  another,  supported  It,  refuted  it. 
Mountains  and  mountains  of  thoughts, — deep, 
keen,  far-reaching.  And  among  them  were 
thoughts  that  shamed  him  in  his  own  eyes, — 
that  stirred  his  unrest  and  kindled  a  wrath 
against  his  very  self.    How  did  they  ever  come 


BERURIAH  1 1 

to  him?  These  doubts, — how  could  they  ever 
have  entered  his  soul?  How  could  he, — he,  of 
all  men,  who  knew  her  heart  so  well  and  to 
whom  her  thoughts  were  as  an  open  book? 
Had  she  not  shown  enough  how  pious  and 
strong  she  was,  at  the  death  of  her  two  chil- 
dren? Had  not  all  the  world  then  seen  that  his 
Beruriah  was  unparalleled? 

But  the  pious  Master  who  had  compared  the 
power  of  Satan  with  the  power  of  the  Lord, 
and  had  issued  a  thousand  admonitions  against 
the  Evil  One,  tremblingly  sought  protection  for 
him  and  his  one  fear  of  the  Evil  Spirit.  And 
in  shame,  with  quivering  lips,  he  whispered, 
"Forgive  me,  Beruriah,  my  holy  one.  But  let 
them  now  subject  you  to  the  test!" 

Ill 

Whereupon  Rabbi  Mayer  assembled  all  his 
students,  and  spoke  to  them. 

"Your  words  about  my  wife  Beruriah  have 
reached  me,  and  your  doubts  concerning  her 
have  come  to  my  ears.     When  one  feels  doubt 


12  TEMPTATIONS 

about  his  companion  groundlessly,  what  is  that 
companion  to  do?  Shall  he  not  come  and  say, 
'What  is  the  ground  for  your  suspicion,  and 
how  have  I  called  forth  your  misgivings?'  And 
shall  he  not  say,  Tou  are  a  wicked  comrade, 
else  should  you  have  raised  no  doubts  against 
me,  since  there  Is  no  foundation  for  them.' 
Shall  I  not  tell  you  all  that  you  are  evil  minds, 
unworthy  of  sitting  before  me,  since  your  own 
thoughts  are  base  and  you  yourselves  are  a  toy 
in  the  hands  of  seduction?  Wherefore  you 
doubt,  too,  the  purity  of  my  wife  Beruriah? 
Would  I  not  be  right  to  dismiss  you  all  from 
me,  damming  the  stream  of  my  learning  against 

you?" 

A  terror  descended  upon  the  disciples  and 
they  were  tossed  in  deep  disquietude.  Those 
among  them  who,  more  than  the  others,  had 
uttered  the  doubts  and  spread  them,  sat  rooted, 
with  downcast  eyes,  abashed  and  crestfallen. 
But  those  who  had  simply  listened  to  the  doubts, 
without  repeating  them,  looked  about  in  fear 
and  consternation,  as  if  seeking  the  guilty.    And 


BERURIAH  13 

one  arose,  saying,  "Rabbi,  surely  you  will  not 
punish  those  who  listened,  even  as  those  who 
uttered?" 

Rabbi  Mayer  replied,  "The  same  penalty  for 
those  who  listened  as  for  those  who  spoke.  For 
not  alone  is  the  mouse  the  thief,  but  the  hole 
also." 

Whereupon  the  disciples  began  to  murmur, 
softly  and  sheepishly,  "But  we  doubt  no 
longer." 

Rabbi  Mayer  laughed. 

"Wise  pupils  have  I  in  you,  and  to  think  that 
you  will  spread  the  Law  through  Israel!  Such 
as  you  will  prove  a  reptile  pure  in  only  one  way: 
when  it  will  profit  you." 

The  disciples  were  now  dejected  more  than 
ever.  And  Rabbi  Mayer  spoke  again  to  them, 
as  was  his  practice,  through  a  parable. 

"A  fox  met  a  hen,  and  said  to  her,  'I  have 
heard  that  you  doubt  my  being  the  most  virtu- 
ous of  creatures.  For  that  I  will  straightway 
devour  you.'  The  hen  was  seized  with  fear 
and  cried,  entreatingly,  *I  do  not  doubt  it,  and 


14  TEMPTATIONS 

If  I  ever  did,  I  will  never  doubt  it  again.'  And 
the  fox,  who  was  In  a  pleasant  humour  because 
his  stomach  was  full,  spoke  again  to  her :  'This 
time  I  let  you  free.  But  remember,  should 
you  ever  in  future  express  the  slightest  doubt, 
you  will  be  as  good  as  dead.'  Whereupon  the 
hen  took  oath  that  never  should  she  express  the 
slightest  doubt.  But  when  the  fox  had  released 
her  and  gone  on  his  way,  she  snuggled  her  head 
in  between  her  wings  and  furtively  thought  to 
herself  that  there  was  none  so  wicked  as  the 
fox." 

And  now  Rabbi  Mayer  raised  his  voice  and 
said,  "No,  not  with  Intimidation  would  I  banish 
the  doubts  you  feel  concerning  my  wife  Beru- 
rlah.  For  after  all,  you  will  take  refuge  deep 
In  your  hearts,  and  admonish  your  thoughts 
never  to  dare  rise  to  your  lips.  You  will  tell 
yourselves  that  you  are  right,  but  that  because 
you  did  not  wish  to  lose  me,  you  pretended  to  be 
convinced.  I  wish,  however,  that  all  doubts 
truly  cease, — that  they  be  driven  from  your 
hearts  and  that  your  souls  be  cleansed  of  them." 


BERURIAH  15 

The  disciples  sat  still,  as  if  considering  how 
this  might  come  to  pass,  and  one  among  them 
who  was  not  over  careful,  blurted  out,  "If  you 
will  cease  to  doubt,  so  will  we,  too." 

At  first  Rabbi  Mayer's  face  grew  fiery  red, 
but  he  uttered  not  a  word,  as  if  to  refrain  from 
speaking  in  great  anger.  Then  his  countenance 
turned  ghastly  pale,  sunken  and  wan  from  surg- 
ing, volcanic  wrath.    Then  he  spoke : 

"Woe  unto  him  whose  thoughts  are  those  of 
a  fool,  but  greater  woe  still  if  he  master  not 
his  lips.  Did  you  then  doubt,  at  first,  because 
/  doubted?  Who  of  you  will  dare  to  rise  and 
say  that  Rabbi  Mayer  doubted  his  wife  Beru- 
riah?  But  those  doubts  which  you  could  not 
conceal  within  yourselves,  and  had  to  drool  out 
and  pour  Into  others'  ears,  even  as  venomous 
snakes,  have  become  like  the  source  of  a  plague, 
spreading  pestilence  to  right  and  to  left,  near 
and  afar.  Even  I  have  caught  the  contagion  of 
your  doubt,  and,  as  you  speak,  so  speak  I  now 
myself.  'Perhaps  Beruriah  is  true  to  me  be- 
cause no  tempter  ever  sought  her  ear.* " 


i6  TEMPTATIONS 

Those  of  the  disciples  who  had  been  first  to 
sow  the  seed  of  doubt  wished  to  lift  their  heads 
in  triumph,  but  they  refrained,  content  to  smile 
within  their  hearts,  and  barely  able  to  keep 
the  smile  from  prancing  to  their  lips.  But  the 
wise  Rabbi  Mayer  had  noticed  the  spark  of 
triumph  that  had  flashed  in  their  eyes,  and 
thundered  forth  in  tones  that  scattered  terror: 

"Never  have  I  entertained  doubt  of  my  wife 
Beruriah.  Nor  has  the  shghtest  suspicion  as- 
sailed me  as  to  the  purity  of  her  heart.  But 
your  evil  venom  has  corroded  my  being,  and 
the  stench  of  your  words  has  grown  foul 
thoughts  within  me.  Now  I  tell  myself,  'The 
apple  is  wondrous  fair,  but  who  can  say  what 
passes  in  its  heart?'  This  have  you  wrought 
with  the  poison  of  your  doubts:  that  Rabbi 
Mayer  should  feel  uncertainty  as  to  the  virtue 
of  Beruriah,  his  wife.  Shall  I  not  drive  you 
from  me  with  rods  and  curses?  But  no.  I 
have  determined  otherwise.  What  does  one  do 
to  learn  whether  the  beautiful  apple  be  sound  at 
the  core?     He  cuts  it  open.     I,  too,  will  cut 


BERURIAH  17 

open,  will  peer  into,  Beruriah's  heart;  I  will 
test  her  soul.  And  hear,  now,  what  I  have  re- 
solved upon:  For  thirty  days  I  will  not  appear 
to  her  in  Tiberias, — and  thirty  days,  I  believe, 
will  be  enough  to  test  the  power  of  a  woman's 
virtue,  when  her  husband  is  absent  from  her. 
And  you — choose  from  among  you  one  who 
shall  take  it  upon  himself  to  be  her  tempter — ." 

IV 

More  than  one  heart  quaked  as  Rabbi 
Mayer  uttered  these  words.  The  possible 
companionship  with  the  wonderful  Beruriah 
coursed  like  a  hot  stream  from  head  to 
foot  in  many  a  student.  But  strongest  of  all 
beat  the  heart  of  handsome  Simeon,  son  of 
Rabbi  Ismael,  and  he  had  to  close  his  eyes  be- 
cause of  the  flood  of  passion  that  inundated 
him. 

Most  handsome  of  all  the  disciples  was  Sim- 
eon, son  of  Rabbi  Ismael.  Once  a  Roman 
matron  had  beheld  him,  and  it  seemed  to  her  as 
if  Adonis,,  the  Greek  god  of  strength  and  youth 


i8  TEMPTATIONS 

and  beauty,  had  turned  Jew  and  given  himself 
up  to  the  study  of  the  fathomless  Torah.  And 
she  called  him  "the  Adonis  who  turned  Jew." 
He  was  tall,  slender  and  agile;  the  hair  of  his 
head  and  of  his  small  beard  was  reddish;  his 
eyes  were  of  a  colour  that  changed  with  the  time 
of  day  and  the  temper  of  his  moods,  and  none 
could  withstand  his  glance.  Out  of  piety  he 
would  shut  his  eyes  on  passing  a  woman,  lest 
unholy  thoughts  be  born  in  a  Jewish  daughter's 
bosom.  But  once,  on  passing  Beruriah,  he  had 
not  shut  his  eyes,  and  instead  of  igniting  an- 
other, he  was  himself  set  on  fire,  and  on  his  eyes 
was  impressed  her  image,  inextinguishably,  even 
as  a  seal  impresses  the  burning  wax.  From  that 
time  he  saw  only  her  before  him;  she  was  his 
dream  by  night,  his  thought  by  day,  nor  did  his 
holy  studies  avail  him  aught.  His  striking  mas- 
culine beauty  had  found  its  mate  in  Beruriah, 
and  he  hungered  after  her  as  for  something  that 
had  always  belonged  to  him, — something  that 
ever  had  been  destined  for  him.  He  had  been 
pious  all  his  years,  had  known  most  ardent  pray- 


BERURIAH  19 

ers  and  tormenting  fasts,  bodily  tortures  and 
cleansing  of  the  soul.  But  now  his  prayers  no 
longer  were  horror  of  sin,  but  plaints  and  griev- 
ances. It  was  as  though  the  Lord  withheld  what 
was  justly  Simeon's;  as  if  God  had  taken  away 
his  rightful  property,  and  his  alone.  And  why 
had  God  placed  Beruriah  in  his  path?  Why  had 
the  Lord  not  closed  his  eyes  at  their  meeting? 
And  in  his  restless,  often  feverish  thoughts  he 
showed  God  how  he,  Simeon,  might  come  to 
her  who  was  destined  to  be  his.  Rabbi  Mayer 
might  die,  and  he  would  inherit  Beruriah;  or  if 
God  did  not  wish  the  death  of  the  holy  man, 
Beruriah  could  forsake  her  learned  husband, 
— divorce  him  and  fly  to  the  arms  of  her  twin 
in  beauty.  Could  not  almighty  God  bring  this 
to  pass? 

And  now  that  Rabbi  Mayer  had  announced 
his  resolution,  it  was  as  if  God  had  answered 
Simeon's  prayers,  knowing  that  he  would  be 
the  one  to  execute  the  purpose  of  the  Rabbi, 
which  was  in  reality  the  hidden  purpose  of  the 
Almighty.     And  Rabbi  Mayer,  after  uttering 


20  TEMPTATIONS 

his  plan,  turned  his  glance  to  Simeon,  son  of 
Rabbi  Ismael,  as  if  Simeon  were  he  upon  whom 
had  fallen  the  dangerous  embassy.  But  the 
sage  said  nothing  to  indicate  any  choice  on  his 
part.  He  departed  from  the  Yeshiva  at  once, 
leaving  the  disciples  alone  to  choose  the  tempter 
from  their  number. 

And  although  many  eyes  sought  out  Simeon, 
son  of  Rabbi  Ismael,  his  selection  was  In  no 
wise  unanimous.  For  several  others  wished  to 
assume  the  mission,  and  these  were  the  students 
who  had  most  openly  expressed  their  doubts  as 
to  Berurlah's  constancy. 

And  one  of  them  spoke : 

"In  order  to  seduce  Beruriah  one  need 
not  be  the  most  handsome,  but  the  most  subtle. 
One  can  steal  Into  her  heart,  not  through  her 
eyes,  but  through  her  ears.  Her  eyes  she  can 
close  before  the  most  beautiful  picture,  but 
there  is  naught  that  can  seal  her  ears  against 
subtle  speech.  The  beautiful  picture  that 
meets  her  gaze  will  vanish  the  moment 
she  turns  her  head,  but  the  guileful  word  will 


BERURIAH  21 

remain  in  her  heart,  and  delve  and  burrow. 
Remember,  that  even  our  mother  Eve  was  con- 
quered by  wily  words  from  the  subtle  serpent's 
mouth.  As  the  Bible  says,  'Now  the  serpent 
was  more  subtle  than  any  beast  of  the  field.' 
And  if  Beruriah  withstand  the  subtle  word, 
then  is  her  virtue  beyond  uncertainty." 

And  he  spoke  in  such  a  way  that  all  might  see 
he  was  most  subtle  and  should  be  their  choice. 

But  a  second  arose  and  spoke: 

"In  order  to  win  Beruriah  one  need  be 
neither  the  handsomest  nor  the  most  subtle, 
but  the  strongest.  For  what  is  the  beauty  of 
our  most  beautiful  against  her  beauty?  And 
what  is  the  guile  of  our  most  subtle  against  her 
subtlety?  Our  handsomest  will  quail  before 
her,  asking,  'Why  am  I  so  ugly?'  And  our 
cleverest  will  confront  her  like  a  helpless  simple- 
ton. But  the  presence  of  a  powerful  man  will 
descend  upon  her  senses  like  a  cloud;  the  breath 
of  immense  masculine  power  will  penetrate  her 
like  wine  and  intoxicate  her.  To  make  a  woman 
bite  into  a  forbidden  apple,  it  takes  a  wily  ser- 


22  TEMPTATIONS 

pent;  but  to  make  a  woman  lust  for  a  man 
other  than  her  husband,  it  requires  one  whose 
strength  will  work  upon  her  like  the  pressure  of 
two  mill-stones.  And  if  Beruriah  withstand 
great  masculine  strength,  then  is  her  virtue  be- 
yond uncertainty." 

And  he  spoke  in  such  a  way  that  all  might  see 
he  was  the  strongest  and  should  be  their  choice. 

But  a  third  arose  and  spoke: 

"In  order  to  gain  Beruriah,  one  need  not  be 
the  handsomest,  the  wiliest  or  the  strongest, 
but  the  most  learned.  For  if  our  fellow-student 
is  right  in  all  he  says  as  to  the  wisest  and  the 
wiliest  then  must  he  surely  recognise  that 
not  even  masculine  strength  will  touch  Beru- 
riah's  soul.  For  she  will  tell  herself,  *An  un- 
tamed bull  is  stronger;  and  what  man  is  more 
powerful  than  a  lion?  Shall  I  then  languish 
with  desire  for  the  wild  bull,  the  lion,  and  the 
elephant?'  But  the  most  learned  of  us  will 
know  how  to  call  forth  her  admiration,  and  will 
win  her  heart  through  his  skill  in  holy  lore. 
And  if  her  husband,  our  master  Rabbi  Mayer, 


BERURIAH  23 

can  demonstrate  the  purity  of  a  reptile  in  one 
hundred  and  fifty  different  ways,  then  her 
seducer  will  have  to  be  able,  in  twice  one- 
hundred  and  fifty  ways,  to  prove  that  Reuben 
did  not  sin  with  Bilhah,  the  wife  of  his  father 
Jacob, — that  King  David  did  not  sin  with  Bath- 
sheba,  the  wife  of  Uriah  the  Hittite,  and  that 
Beruriah's  sin  against  her  husband  will  likewise 
be  no  sin.  And  if  Beruriah  withstand  the  great 
interpretative  power  of  our  most  learned  asso- 
ciate, then  is  her  virtue  beyond  uncertainty." 
And  he  spoke  in  such  a  way  that  all  might 
see  he  was  most  learned  and  should  be  their 
choice. 

Whereupon  a  fourth  arose  and  spoke : 
"In  order  to  triumph  over  Beruriah,  one  need 
be  neither  the  handsomest  nor  the  wiliest,  nor 
yet  the  strongest  or  the  most  learned.  For  the 
sum  of  his  learning  will  be  as  naught  against 
her  own,  and  who  dare  assure  us  that  he  will 
not  be  left  sitting  before  her  like  a  pupil  before 
a  master?  And  will  she  not  say  that  in  our 
Yeshiva   we   study  Torah   only  to   make  that 


24  TEMPTATIONS 

which  is  sinful  appear  pure?  Therefore  I  say 
to  you  that  in  order  to  triumph  over  Beiuriah 
one  must  be  the  most  illustrious.  And  who  is 
most  illustrious  if  not  he  who  can  add  to  his  per- 
sonal gifts  and  to  his  own  good  name  the  pedi- 
gree of  his  noted  family?  Our  master,  Rabbi 
Mayer,  Beruriah's  husband,  is  endowed  with 
many  virtues.  But  he  springs  from  lowly,  con- 
vert stock,  and  his  origin  is  but  an  impure 
source.  How  Beruriah's  heart  will  melt  with 
consuming  desire  when  she  feels  the  presence 
of  one  whose  ancestry  dates  back  to  the  kings 
of  the  House  of  David!  And  only  after  she 
has  withstood  the  fascination  of  a  genuine  des- 
cendant from  such  illustrious  forebears  will  her 
virtue  have  been  proved  beyond  all  doubt." 

That  by  these  words  he  meant  to  indicate 
himself  there  was  not  the  slightest  question,  for 
he  was  one  who  claimed  to  be  descended  from 
the  kings  of  the  House  of  David,  and  flaunted 
his  ancestry  as  a  peacock  displays  its  tail. 

And  now  there  arose  one  whom  all  viewed  in 
the  greatest  astonishment,  their  eyes  distended 


BERURIAH  25 

and  their  mouths  agape,  for  none  could  believe 
that  he,  too,  would  rise  to  speak.    And  he  said: 

"In  order  to  seduce  Beruriah,  one  must  be 
the  unhappiest  of  men." 

And  because  the  intense  stupefaction  with 
which  his  rising  had  been  greeted  dissolved  now 
into  uproarious  laughter,  he  continued  with 
louder  voice  and  vehement  gestures : 

"Yes,  the  most  unhappy  and  most  wretched! 
You  will  succeed  in  approaching  Beruriah's 
heart  only  through  compassion.  I  need  only 
relate  to  her,  with  tears  in  my  voice  and  suffer- 
ing in  my  eyes,  how  the  words  'father,  mother' 
were  never  uttered  by  my  lips  because  my  father 
died  before  I  was  born,  and  my  mother  died 
giving  birth  to  me, — how  I  do  not  even  know 
who  brought  me  up,  because  I  passed  from  hand 
to  hand,  one  stumbling  across  me  on  the  thresh- 
old of  his  home,  another  coming  upon  me  be- 
fore his  door,  in  the  darkness  of  black  night. 
By  day  the  sun  scorched  me,  and  by  night  the 
cold  pierced  my  flesh,  and  I  stilled  my  hunger 
with  my  cries.     In  all  the  world  not  one  soul 


26  TEMPTATIONS 

could  be  found  who  would  adopt  me  as  a  son; 
they  saw  in  me  an  evil  visitation  and  only  fear 
of  God  and  His  commandments  held  them  back 
from  putting  me  to  death.  And  thus  I  grew 
up  in  hunger,  necessity,  and  misery,  without 
caresses,  without  a  kiss,  without  a  kind  word, 
without  a  tender  glance,  without  the  slightest 
token  of  love,  yet  with  a  burning  desire  for 
affection  and  endearments.  And  I  tell  you  that 
if  Beruriah  does  not  burst  into  flames  of  sinful 
lust  out  of  compassion  for  me,  then  is  her  virtue 
indeed  beyond  uncertainty." 

And  because  his  words  created  a  sensation, 
he  was  sure  that  he  would  be  the  chosen  one. 

But  now  the  first  to  speak  began  anew,  and 
after  him  the  second,  and  then  the  third,  and 
following  them  the  fourth  one  and  the  fifth. 
And  then  all  at  the  same  time.  Each  tried  to 
drown  out  the  voices  of  the  rest,  to  annihilate 
the  others.  And  still  others  intruded  into  the 
discussion,  until  the  Yeshiva  resounded  with 
such  a  tumult  as  rises  from  a  crowded  market- 
place on  a  busy  day. 


BERURIAH  27 

Simeon,  son  of  Rabbi  Ismael,  alone  was 
silent.  He  was  certain  that  he  would  be  the 
chosen  one,  for  thus  had  Rabbi  Mayer  spoken 
with  his  glance,  and  such  was  the  will  of  God. 
And  again,  because  Simeon,  in  addition  to  his 
great  beauty,  possessed  the  other  qualities 
necessary  to  win  Beruriah.  For  he  felt  that  he 
was  also  the  most  unhappy.  Who,  indeed,  could 
be  more  unhappy  than  he,  whom  God  had  been 
so  unkind  as  to  deprive  of  what  should  have 
been  his,  afterwards  revealing  to  him  what  he 
had  lost  and  filling  his  heart  with  hopelessness 
and  grief?  And  let  but  the  time  arrive  when  he 
could  tell  Beruriah  the  tale  of  all  his  woes, — 
the  trials  that  he  had  undergone  for  her, — then 
would  she  be  overcome  by  pity,  and  in  her  heart 
compassion  would  pave  the  way  for  future  love. 

And  Simeon  smiled  amidst  the  wordy  din, 
and  spoke  no  word.  When,  for  a  moment,  the 
arguments  subsided,  again  a  host  of  eyes  was 
turned  to  his.  And  they  recalled  that  Rabbi 
Mayer's  glance  had  really  singled  him  out,  and 
suddenly  realised  that  no  fitter  messenger  than 


28  TEMPTATIONS 

Simeon  could  be  sent.  And  if  Beruriah  could 
withstand  the  fascination  of  the  Adonis  who 
had  turned  Jew,  then  was  her  virtue  indeed  be- 
yond uncertainty. 

And  now  from  various  sides  the  cry  arose, 
"Let  Simeon  go!  The  handsome  Simeon! 
The  beautiful  son  of  Rabbi  Ismael!" 

Thus  was  Simeon,  the  son  of  Rabbi  Ismael, 
chosen  to  be  the  touchstone  which  should  test 
the  constancy  and  purity  of  the  heart  of  Beru- 
riah, wife  of  the  Master,  Rabbi  Mayer. 

V 

He  came  to  her  with  a  letter  from  her  hus- 
band, and  the  letter  read,  very  simply:  "The 
bearer,  one  of  my  students,  will  explain  every- 
thing." 

He  found  her  in  the  garden  before  her  house, 
alone  with  her  thoughts,  and  she  said,  some- 
what disturbed  by  a  presentiment  of  evil  ti- 
dings, "Pardon  my  not  inviting  you  into  my 
home  to  offer  you  refreshment  and  rest,  for 
I  am  very  anxious  and  impatient." 


BERURIAH  29 

Simeon  paused  a  moment  to  catch  his  breath 
and  gain  sufficient  time  thus  to  recall  what  had 
been  planned  and  conspired  in  the  Yeshiva,  that 
the  tale  he  bore  should  carry  confidence  and 
sound  as  if  it  were  the  very  truth.  Beruriah 
might  be  struck  by  a  suspicion  of  intrigue  and 
bring  the  plan  to  naught.  Then  he  began,  with 
a  soft,  flattering,  reassuring  voice,  glancing 
downwards,  as  became  a  pious  student  of  the 
Torah,  a  disciple  of  the  pious  Rabbi  Mayer. 

"Evil  decrees  are  hatching  against  the  Jews. 
The  times  of  Emperor  Hadrian  threaten  to  re- 
turn. Circumcision  may  be  forbidden,  and 
keeping  the  Sabbath.  The  study  of  the  Torah 
may  be  proscribed." 

Beruriah's  answer  echoed  with  deep  pain: 
"The  rumour  aspires  to  evil  reality." 

"Agents  have  been  sent  out  to  seize  the  Ye- 
shiva heads.  Rabbi  Mayer,  Rabbi  Simeon,  son 
of  luhai  and  Rabbi  Judah,  son  of  Ileal.  The 
authorities  wish  to  cut  off  the  heads,  thus  de- 
stroying the  body." 


30  TEMPTATIONS 

Beruriah,  pale  and  trembling,  cried  in  fright, 
"Have  the  Rabbis  been  caught?" 

"No.  The  agents  have  not  yet  appeared. 
Perhaps  the  rumour  concerning  them  is  false, 
and  they  will  never  come.  But  already  Rabbi 
Simeon,  son  of  luhai,  has  gone  into  hiding  and 
Rabbi  Judah  has  closed  his  Academy  and  dis- 
missed his  students  until  the  storm  rolls  by. 
Rabbi  Mayer  alone  refuses  to  retreat  from  the 
spot  where  God  has  placed  him  and  has  de- 
vised a  plan  to  outwit  the  authorities." 

Beruriah,  who  had  closed  her  eyes  and  raised 
her  head  to  heaven,  her  heart  filled  with  thanks 
that  her  husband  was  not  so  timorous  as  the 
others,  now  opened  her  eyes  wide,  piercing 
Simeon  with  their  glance  and  awaiting  with  in- 
tense curiosity  the  details  of  Rabbi  Mayer's 
plan. 

Simeon  recounted  the  project  In  a  calm  voice, 
with  all  the  self-assurance  of  speaking  the  truth, 
yet  with  a  certain  wariness  and  fear  of  the  In- 
quiring look  In  her  keen  eyes. 

"One   of   his   students   Is    to   go   to    Rabbi 


BERURIAH  31 

Mayer's  home  in  Tiberias  and  live  there  near 
Beruriah,  his  wife.  And  when  the  agents  come 
for  Rabbi  Mayer,  his  students  are  to  declare 
that  for  a  long  time  they  have  been  wandering 
about  like  sheep  without  a  shepherd,  because 
Rabbi  Mayer  has  forsaken  them,  and  may  be 
found  at  Tiberias,  at  home  with  Beruriah,  his 
wife.  When  the  pursuers  come  to  Rabbi  May- 
er's home,  they  will  find  his  scholar,  whom  they 
will  naturally  take  for  Rabbi  Mayer,  since  he 
dwells  under  the  same  roof  as  Beruriah.  Thus 
Rabbi  Mayer  will  be  able  to  continue  expound- 
ing the  Holy  Law  to  his  students,  which  is  so 
necessary  to  the  existence  of  the  Jewish  people, 
especially  in  times  of  sorrow." 

Beruriah  was  disillusioned.  Her  heart  was 
not  in  the  plan.  There  was  so  much  about  it 
that  was  strange  and  suspicious.  She  thought 
for  a  moment,  seeking  some  objection,  and 
finally  asked,  "Suppose  the  agents  know  Rabbi 
Mayer?" 

But  the  reply  to  this  objection  had  been  pre- 


32  TEMPTATIONS 

pared  beforehand,  and  Simeon  made  answer  In 
reassuring  tones. 

"Did  you  not  hear  me  say  'his  students  are 
to  declare'  ?  If  the  agents  come  to  the  Academy 
they  win  not  find  Rabbi  Mayer,  for  a  hiding- 
place  has  already  been  secured,  and  guards  will 
be  on  the  lookout.  And  should  the  agents  come 
here  and  recognise  that  I  am  not  Rabbi  Mayer, 
you  can  misdirect  their  steps  and  Rabbi  Mayer 
will  meanwhile  seek  new  deliverance.  But  con- 
sider, If  they  do  not  know  him,  and  If  they  take 
me  for  Rabbi  Mayer?" 

And  Simeon  drew  himself  to  his  full  height, 
raising  his  head  and  showing  her  his  eyes,  which 
were  deep  brown  In  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun 
that  shone  through  the  tall,  green  trees. 

Berurlah  thought,  "It  would  be  small  won- 
der If  the  agents  did  take  this  man  to  be  Rabbi 
Mayer."  Yet  this  made  her  heart  no  lighter, 
and  she  asked,  with  quivering  spirit,  "How 
long  win  this  have  to  endure?" 

The  answer  to  this  was  ready  in  advance. 

Thirty  days.     If,  at  the  end  of  thirty  days 


BERURIAH  33 

the  agents  should  not  appear,  then  the  rumour 
concerning  them  had  been  unfounded. 

Simeon  was  waxing  jubilant.  The  plan  had 
so  far  easily  succeeded  and  been  accepted,  and 
now  his  thirty  days  were  to  begin, — destined  to 
be  the  richest,  happiest  days  of  all  his  life. 

But  Beruriah  sighed  heavily.  Thirty  days 
of  uncertainty  and  terror,  of  sorrow  and 
yearning.  Then  she  asked,  still  sadder  than 
before,  "Will  Rabbi  Mayer  not  come  home  at 
all,  in  all  the  thirty  days?" 

Simeon,  piously,  almost  with  reproach,  re- 
plied, "Would  you  have  him  steal  time  from  the 
Holy  Law  and  give  it  to  you?  It  may  be  that 
the  days  of  our  Academy  are  numbered,  and 
the  days  of  the  Torah  in  it." 

Utterly  downcast,  she  was  barely  able  to 
whisper,  "Will  Rabbi  Mayer  not  even  send  a 
messenger  with  news  of  himself?" 

Simeon  replied  curtly,  "Only  in  case  Rabbi 
Mayer  should  meet  with  misfortune  may  you 
expect  a  messenger." 

Sad  and  dissatisfied,  she  shook  her  head,  ill 


34  TEMPTATIONS 

content  with  the  plan  her  husband  had  devised. 
But  she  did  not  care  to  question  further,  and 
recalled  her  duties  as  hostess.  And  thus  she 
took  in  under  her  roof  him  who  had  been  sent 
as  the  touchstone  of  her  virtue,  and  gave  him 
the  room  of  Rabbi  Mayer  her  husband.  If  the 
agents  should  come,  there  could  be  no  doubt 
that  he  was  Rabbi  Mayer,  head  of  the  Yeshiva, 
who  had  left  his  Academy  and  his  students  and 
was  living  a  secluded  life  at  home,  in  the  com- 
pany of  his  beautiful  wife. 

VI 

Simeon  entered  into  Rabbi  Mayer's  dwell- 
ing, which  was^  to  be  his  own  for  all  of 
thirty  days,  and  sat  down  to  study.  He  knew 
that  his  voice  was  sweet  and  clear,  and  very 
masculine,  so  he  began  to  read  from  the  sacred 
books  aloud.  And  it  seemed  to  him  that  were 
he  to  draw  aside  the  curtain  which  separated 
Rabbi  Mayer's  study  from  the  other  rooms  he 
would  discover  Beruriah  listening  to  his  voice 
as  he  read.     He  felt  her  presence,  heard  her 


BERURIAH  35 

breathing,  inhaled  her  perfume.  But  he  rubbed 
his  forehead  to  banish  these  alien  thoughts.  He 
desired  to  study  zealously,  that  Beruriah  might 
detect  nothing  artificial  in  his  actions,  and  yet 
in  such  wise,  too,  that  the  Holy  Law  be  not 
affronted,  and  God  cherish  no  anger  against 
him. 

For  the  first  three  days  they  saw  nothing  of 
each  other.  His  food  was  brought  to  him  by 
the  aged  servant,  and  whenever  he  left  his  room 
he  would  walk  to  the  outside  door  with  lowered 
eyes,  looking  neither  to  right  nor  to  left,  as  one 
engrossed  in  deep  and  ponderous  thoughts, 
afraid  to  be  disturbed.  Only  on  the  evening  of 
the  fourth  day  did  they  meet,  for  it  was  the 
Sabbath  eve  and  he  recited  grace  and  sang  holy 
songs,  blessing  God  for  their  food  in  a  pious 
voice  that  was  at  once  inspired  and  inspiring. 
And  he  knew  that  he  was  very  beautiful,  and 
that  the  sight  of  him  was  as  balm  to  the  soul, 
and  that  his  voice  was  glorious, — a  Sabbath-joy 
to  hear.  He  looked  but  rarely  at  Beruriah; 
when,  however,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  hers,  she 


36  TEMPTATIONS 

was  pierced  by  a  vague,  deep  glance,  filled  with 
a  manly  power,  yet  very  sad.  And  the  colour 
of  his  eyes  was  as  deeply  dark  as  night,  within 
them  dancing  the  many  hghts  that  shone  in  the 
room  and  on  the  table,  doing  honour  to  the 
Sabbath. 

And  at  night,  on  his  couch,  he  began  to  sing, 
into  the  darkness  of  his  room,  various  passages 
from  the  Bible,  which  he  knew  by  heart. 
Among  these  were  many  of  the  most  passionate 
lines  of  the  Song  of  Songs.  He  sang  with  re- 
pressed tones,  so  that  he  disturb  the  sleep  of 
none, — yet  his  voice  filled  the  entire  dwelling 
with  sweet  melancholy  and  deep  unrest. 

Beruriah  lay  yearning  for  Rabbi  Mayer,  her 
husband.  And  because  it  is  not  permitted  to 
weep  upon  the  Sabbath  she  banished  from  her 
soul  all  grief  and  longing,  repeating  softly  the 
passages  that  reached  her  ear  from  Simeon, 
telling  herself  he  was  a  most  remarkable  per- 
son,— this  disciple  of  her  husband, — and  that 
of  a  certainty  he  must  be  one  of  the  most  il- 
lustrious of  Rabbi  Mayer's  disciples,  since  he 


BERURIAH  37 

had  been  chosen  to  impersonate  his  master.  She 
thought,  "If  every  Jew,  however  lowly,  has  yet 
within  him  a  share  of  God  above,  how  great 
indeed  must  be  the  share  of  him  who  possesses 
Torah  and  wisdom  and  beauty,  a  sweet  voice 
and  utmost  refinement?" 

The  next  day  they  met  again  at  the  Sab- 
bath table.  He  recited  grace  and  sang  his  pious 
songs,  blessing  the  Lord  for  the  food  with  ex- 
alted. Sabbath  voice,  which  quivered,  however, 
with  a  certain  inquietude  and  sadness.  Again 
he  looked  but  rarely  at  Beruriah,  with  his 
vague,  deep  glance  so  full  of  manly  power  and 
yet  so  spiritless.  And  the  colour  of  his  eyes 
was  a  brilliant  blue,  even  as  the  sky  without,  and 
they  were  radiant  with  will  indomitable  and 
pride  of  mastery.  And  at  every  glance  of  his 
Beruriah  trembled  with  an  unpleasant  feeling, 
and  she  would  think  that  it  were  better  far  If 
Rabbi  Mayer  were  sitting  there  with  her.  She 
was  happy  that  the  Sabbath  would  soon  be  past, 
and  that  for  another  week  she  would  not  meet 


38  TEMPTATIONS 

Simeon, — this  remarkable  man  who  possessed 
so  great  a  share  of  God — 

After  the  prayer  that  closed  the  Sabbath  she 
accompanied  him  to  his  room  with  a  glance  from 
the  corner  of  her  eye,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  she  was  being  freed  of  care.  But  suddenly 
he  stopped  upon  the  threshold,  and  turned  to 
her  with  exceeding  tenderness. 

"Forgive  me  the  glances,  my  hostess,  that  I 
cast  upon  you  yester  eve  and  to-day." 

She  answered  sternly  and  indifferently: 

"And  were  they  glances  such  as  call  for 
pardon?" 

"Did  you  not  feel  them?" 

"They  did  not  offend  me." 

He  stepped  toward  her. 

"Oh,  surely  they  did  not  offend  you.  How, 
indeed,  could  they?  But  they  should  have 
pained  you." 

"Pained  me?" 

She  did  not  understand  him. 

"Your  mother-heart." 

He  pronounced  the  words  softly,  with  a  sigh 


BERURIAH  39 

and  an  abject  countenance.  Yet  still  she  did  not 
understand.  Could  It  be  that  he  referred  to 
her  two  children,  who  had  died  on  the  same 
day, — a  Sabbath  day?  His  looks  were  sad 
Indeed,  yet  how  could  she  behold  In  them  grief 
for  her  children  or  condolence  with  her?  She 
spoke  once  more,  quite  drily: 

"Even  now  I  do  not  understand  you." 
Then  he  told  her  the  tale  of  a  great  misfor- 
tune that  had  befallen  a  mother,  and  the  even 
greater  heroism  she  had  displayed.  He  spoke 
with  deep  sorrow  and  emotion  In  his  voice  and 
his  eyes  peered  Into  the  distance  as  If  they  be- 
held there  a  vision  of  a  divine  miracle.  This 
was  her  own  grievous  misfortune, — her  own 
heroism,  but  he  told  It  as  a  tale  that  had  once 
occurred, — as  a  miracle  that  had  once  taken 
place. 

There  was  once  a  Jewish  woman,  the  wife  of 
a  renowned  Talmudic  sage,  and  she  had  two 
sons  of  wondrous  beauty.  Little  sons,  yet  al- 
ready great  hopes.     Their  father  was  gifted, 


40  TEMPTATIONS 

yet  it  could  easily  be  seen  that  they  were  still 
more  gifted.  Whoever  beheld  them  surren- 
ered  to  their  charm.  The  sight  of  them  brought 
joy  to  all  hearts  and  caused  warmth  to  surge 
throughout  one's  being.  And  the  mother  was 
at  a  loss  for  thanks  to  God  for  the  precious 
gifts  that  he  had  sent  to  her.  When  suddenly 
a  plague  assailed  the  town  in  which  she  dwelt 
and  on  a  Sabbath  day  both  her  sons  died  while 
their  father  was  at  a  House  of  Study,  reciting 
the  Holy  Law  before  his  fellow  Jews.  In 
order  not  to  spoil  her  husband's  Sabbath  when 
he  came  home,  she  laid  her  two  sons  out  in  a 
distant  room,  covering  them  with  a  black 
shroud,  and  then  sat  down  to  await  her  hus- 
band's coming,  dressed  in  her  Sabbath  clothes 
and  on  her  face  a  Sabbath  air.  And  when  her 
husband  came  he  could  not  read  from  her  bear- 
ing that  a  thunderbolt  had  struck  their  home, 
destroying  its  most  treasured  possessions. 

Accustomed  to  see  his  children  at  the  Sab- 
bath table,  he  asked  "Where  are  our  sons?" 


BERURIAH  41 

The  first  time  she  told  him  a  lie  and  her  voice 
was  calm  and  reassuring: 

"Soldiers  marched  through  the  town  with 
drums  and  music,  and  the  children  were  anxious 
to  see  the  gay  parade.  They  begged  so  prettily 
I  could  not  say  them  nay,  and  let  them  go  to- 
gether with  the  old  servant." 

Her  husband  eyed  her  In  astonishment. 

"A  children's  disease  Is  epidemic  here;  the 
angel  of  death  lurks  now  In  every  street;  and 
you  have  let  our  sons  trail  after  a  procession?" 

She  lay  her  head  against  his  bosom  as  if  to 
win  his  pardon,  and  said,  "If  God  so  wills  It, 
Death  plucks  his  victims  even  in  the  greatest 
seclusion." 

The  hours  of  the  day  passed  and  he  asked 
again,  "Why  have  our  little  sons  not  yet  re- 
turned?" 

And  again  she  answered  calmly,  with  re- 
assurance, "The  procession  cannot  be  over  yet; 
or  else,  they  have  stopped  somewhere  to  play." 

And  she  asked  him  to  forgive  them  for  hav- 
ing so  childishly  forgotten  their  home,  and  per- 


42  TEMPTATIONS 

suaded  him  to  harbour  no  uneasiness.  Could 
he  not  see  that  she  was  calm? 

But  when  evening  had  fallen  and  time  for  the 
closing  prayer  of  Sabbath  had  come,  he  be- 
came once  more  uneasy,  and  exclaimed,  "I  do 
not  understand  you.  How  can  you  be  so  calm? 
It  is  already  so  dark,  and  still  our  sons  are  not 
here." 

And  again  she  answered  serenely  and  sooth- 
ingly : 

"I  am  at  ease  because  I  know  that  God  is 
with  them  on  all  their  ways." 

Now  he  was  ashamed  to  feel  uneasiness,  and 
recited  the  closing  prayers.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, she  turned  to  him  quietly: 

"I  have  a  question  to  propound  to  you,  my 
husband.  Some  one  has  entrusted  to  my  keep- 
ing two  jewels,  with  permission  to  use  them  and 
take  joy  in  them.  And  I  have  really  used  them 
and  taken  in  them  much  joy.  They  were  my 
adornment  and  my  playthings,  my  infinite  hap- 
piness for  many  a  year.     Now  the  owner  has 


BERURL\H  43 

come  and  asks  their  return.  Shall  I  give  them 
back  or  keep  them  for  my  own?" 

In  wonder,  her  husband  looked  at  her  and 
replied,  with  astonishment,  "You  ask?  And 
can  there  be  a  question  here?  Be  thankful  to 
him  for  the  pleasure  that  he  brought  you  with 
these  two  jewels  for  so  many  years,  and  give 
them  back." 

Whereupon  she  took  him  by  the  hand  and 
led  him  to  the  room  where  lay  their  sons,  and 
uncovered  them. 

"See,  God  gave  us  in  trust  two  wondrous 
jewels.  To-day  he  came  to  us  and  asked  them 
back.  Let  us  be  grateful  to  Him  for  the  joy 
He  has  given.  .  .  ." 

Simeon  could  bear  to  speak  no  longer.  His 
emotions  rose;  his  voice  was  choked  with  tears. 

Beruriah,  however,  through  all  this  time,  had 
not  interrupted  the  telling  of  the  tale.  His 
voice  was  so  sweet,  so  touching,  and  had  so 
strangely  reopened  her  old  wound  and  renewed 
her  great  grief.     And  she  followed  his  every 


44  TEMPTATIONS 

word  and  the  great  grief  within  her,  farther 
and  farther,  more  engrossed,  more  intent  than 
ever.  When,  overcome  by  his  own  emotion, 
he  had  interrupted  his  tale,  she  was  very  pale, 
her  eyes  staring  vaguely  before  her.  In  a  voice 
that  came  from  a  parched  throat  and  dry  lips, 
she  asked,  "Why  have  you  told  me  the  tale  of 
my  own  misfortune?  Why  have  you  opened  my 
wound  anew?  Do  you  think,  then,  that  I  did 
not  love  my  sons?  Do  you  imagine  I  have 
forgotten  them?" 

Simeon  made  answer,  "Forgive  me  if  I  have 
hurt  you.  But  ever  since  I  heard  from  your 
husband,  Rabbi  Mayer,  the  story  of  your  won- 
derful composure,  I  have  longed  to  know 
whence  you  received  the  courage ;  and  the  over- 
whelming strength, — how  came  it  to  you?  And 
as  I  sat  before  the  Sabbath  table  yester  eve 
and  to-day,  my  eyes  sought  the  answer  in  your 
mother-heart." 

He  looked  at  her,  filled  with  pity,  and  after 
a  brief  silence  she  said  to  him,  "You  forget  that 
I  am  the  daughter  of  the  martyr  Hanino  Tra- 


BERURIAH  45 

dinus.  When  the  Roman  executioner  was  tor- 
turing him  in  slow  flames,  he  lay  on  his  pyre 
reciting  from  the  Torah  as  if  he  felt  no  pain. 
Do  you  really  believe  that  he  was  free  of  pain? 
Do  you  think  that  he  did  not  feel  the  tongues 
of  fire  ?  But  God  was  great  and  powerful  with- 
in him,  and  He  is  no  less  powerful  in  me." 

Simeon  closed  his  eyes,  for  a  deep  pang  had 
rent  his  heart;  he  kneeled  and  kissed  the  hem 
of  her  garment.  Beruriah  reddened  and  whis- 
pered, scarce  audibly,  "And  I  love  my  husband 
passionately.  It  was  for  his  consolation  that  I 
found  sufficient  strength  in  me  to  restrain  my 
grief  and  not  drown  in  my  tears." 

Simeon  left  the  room  without  a  word,  like  a 
blind  man  groping  his  way,  his  heart  a  prey 
to  pain  and  his  every  limb  atremble. 

Beruriah,  however,  buried  her  head  in  her 
hands  and  remained  seated  as  if  rooted  to  the 
spot  alone  with  her  two  departed  ones  that  she 
had  never  ceased  to  love.  Her  glance  was  fixed 
upon  the  distance,  brimming  with  sorrow  and 
yearning  for  past  joys  and  hopes  forever  lost, 


46  TEMPTATIONS 

her  heart  wailing,  almost  breaking,  but  without 
a  tear  in  her  burning  eyes, 

God  had  given;  God  had  taken  away. 
Blessed  be  His  Name. 

No,  she  would  not  weep,  although  her  wound 
and  her  grief  had  been  renewed  in  so  touching 
a  manner. 

And  suddenly  her  thoughts  turned  to  him 
who  had  awakened  her  wound  and  her  grief  in 
so  appealing  a  fashion, — to  his  voice  and  his 
eyes  and  his  countenance,  with  its  expression  of 
deep  condolence. 

But  Simeon  knew  nothing  of  this.  Deeply 
wounded,  he  strode  into  the  dense,  black  dark- 
ness of  his  room,  and  stood  there  motionless, 
his  head  bowed,  his  eyes  closed.  His  love 
would  awaken  no  response.  The  hopes  he  had 
built  were  vain.  This  wonderful  woman,  who 
had  been  able  to  master  the  keenest  grief  be- 
cause she  was  as  strong  as  a  giant  in  her  God 
and  In  her  love  for  her  husband,  would  surely 
be  able  to  withstand  all  the  wiles  of  seduction 
and  all  thoughts  of  lust.     She  would  not  behold 


BERURIAH  47 

his  beauty;  she  would  not  be  impressed  by  his 
learning.  Her  eyes  would  be  sealed  against 
him,  and  even  if  she  looked  at  him  she  would 
not  see  him.  And  if  his  heart  bled  she  would 
say:  "He  deserves  his  punishment."  What 
was  there  now  to  do?  Why  should  he  remain 
any  longer?  He  must  go  back, — return  to  the 
Yeshiva  and  bring  the  certainty  that  there  was 
no  stronger  woman  than  Beruriah.  Then  he 
would  bury  his  own  grief  within  him  forever. 
He  stretched  forth  his  hands  in  the  gloom  as 
if  to  cry  out,  and  clinched  his  fists  as  if  thus  to 
crush  his  woe,  and  at  the  same  moment  felt  that 
he  would  not  return.  His  longing  for  Beruriah 
was  great,  and  who  could  measure  the  worth 
of  thirty  days  spent  in  her  company?  To  see 
her  and  hear  her  for  thirty  days!  Who  could 
appraise  that  boon?  And  if  he  should  return 
so  soon,  his  comrades  would  say,  "We  all  knew 
how  strong  was  Beruriah  on  the  day  her  two 
sons  died,  and  yet  we  sent  you  as  a  touchstone 
to  test  her  strength  and  purity.  And  since  we 
knew  that  three  days  were  too  few,  we  stipu- 


48  TEMPTATIONS 

lated  all  of  thirty."  And  who  could  tell? 
Perhaps  her  heart  had  weakened  under  the 
grievous  burden  that  Death  had  laid  upon  it, 
and  now  she  would  be  unable  any  longer  to 
resist  love? 

At  this  last  thought  it  seemed  that  the  dark- 
ness of  his  room  was  flooded  with  brightness. 
And  see,  the  servant  had  really  brought  in  a 
light.  He  was  overjoyed  and  sat  down  to  his 
books.  And  in  his  voice  there  rang  a  certain 
note  that  surely  must  convey  to  Beruriah  the 
depth  of  desire  which  was  in  his  heart. 

VII 

He  considered  his  future  attitude  and 
planned  his  campaign.  He  would  not  appear 
before  her  until  the  following  Sabbath; 
but  he  would  let  her  hear  his  voice.  From  early 
morn  till  late  at  night  let  her  hear  his  voice — 
his  voice  that  was  so  charming  and  melodious, 
so  masculine.  Let  it  follow  her  about  through 
all  the  rooms,  into  the  garden  before  the  house, 
into   the    seclusion    of   her   bed.       Let   it    ac- 


BERURIAH  49 

company  her  in  her  thoughts  and  sing  with  her 
in  all  her  prayers.  And  always,  in  case  of  ac- 
cidental meeting,  his  beard  would  be  well 
combed  and  his  head-covering  would  sit  so  well 
over  his  high  forehead  that  his  beauty  would 
compel  her  eyes,  and  the  bearing  of  his  body 
would  summon  to  her  the  same  thoughts  that 
had  occurred  to  the  Roman  matron. 

The  first  day  of  that  week  his  voice  and  his 
reciting  sounded  very  mournful,  and  on  the 
second  and  third  days  it  was  likewise  very  sad. 
And  on  those  days  his  distant  gaze,  at  their 
accidental  meetings,  was  full  of  pity  and  sor- 
row. But  on  the  fourth  day  a  change  came  over 
his  voice.  It  rang  with  joy  and  a  zest  for  life, 
and  when  by  accident  they  met  he  looked  at  her 
most  ardently,  with  glad  rapture;  she  stopped 
and  followed  him  with  her  eyes,  unable  to 
understand  the  great  change.  The  sadness  of 
his  voice  and  the  longing  in  his  glance  she  had 
understood,  and  had  explained  in  divers  ways. 
His  own  life  was  surely  no  happy  one;  all  Israel 
suffered    eternal    persecution;    her    home    was 


50  TEMPTATIONS 

a  house  of  mourning.  Then  how  could  a  per- 
son be  happy  beneath  its  roof?  Her  very 
proximity  must  inspire  sadness.  But  the  re- 
joicing in  his  voice  and  the  rapture  of  his  glance 
she  could  neither  understand  nor  justify.  And 
all  that  day  his  voice  disquieted  her;  at  night 
it  weighed  still  heavier  upon  her  in  the  lone- 
someness  of  her  bed.  Why  was  he  so  happy? 
What  was  chanting  so  joyously  in  his  heart? 
"How  do  his  eyes  look  now?"  she  asked  herself, 
and  grew  ashamed  at  her  thoughts,  directing 
them  to  Rabbi  Mayer.  She  longed  for  him, 
hoping  that  the  thirty  days  would  fly  by  as 
soon  as  possible. 

On  the  next  day  and  the  day  following  the 
great  joy  was  with  him  still.  Beruriah's 
astonishment  likewise  continued.  Once  and 
again  she  wished  to  stop  him  at  one  of  their  ac- 
cidental meetings  and  ask  the  significance  of  the 
great  change  that  had  come  over  him.     But  ^ 

Beruriah  would  not  ask.  Not  the  wife  of 
Rabbi  Mayer.  What  was  this  student,  after 
all,  to  her?     Why  should  she  be  at  all  con- 


BERURIAH  51 

ceraed  with  what  was  passing  In  the  heart  of 
this  strange  man?  She  was  neither  his  mother 
nor  his  sister ;  not  even  a  friend  of  former  years. 
Did  it  become  Berurlah  to  be  inquisitive?  Was 
Rabbi  Mayer's  wife,  then,  like  other  women? 
But  she  noticed  that  the  stranger  had  become 
even  handsomer,  more  powerful,  more  mas- 
culine. 

Sabbath  eve  came  once  again  and  he  said 
grace  and  sang  the  holy  songs,  blessing  the  Lord 
with  a  voice  more  exalted  than  ever,  more  filled 
than  ever  with  the  Sabbath  spirit,  more  than 
ever  inspired  and  Inspiring.  Again  he  looked 
not  often  at  his  hostess,  but  when  he  raised  his 
eyes  to  seek  her  glance,  they  had  a  farawav  look 
filled  with  admiration  and  ecstasy,  and  their 
colour  was  the  colour  of  a  flaming  ruby  set  in 
black,  as  If  the  Sabbath  candles  glowed  within 
them. 

And  again  that  night  on  his  couch  he  sang 
into  the  darkness  of  his  room  various  passages 
from  the  Bible,  which  he  knew  bv  heart,  and  in 
particular  many  verses  from  the  Song  of  Songs, 


52  TEMPTATIONS 

the  song  of  love  and  passion  and  Infinite  yearn* 
Ing.  His  voice  throbbed  with  joy  and  yet  it 
quivered  with  a  deep  unrest;  and  a  great  yearn- 
ing spoke  In  it,  as  If  calling  for  something  that 
could  render  Its  happiness  complete. 

And  Beruriah  lay  quite  restless  in  her  place. 
The  singer's  voice  inundated  her  being,  nor 
could  she  banish  its  magnetic  sound.  She  tried 
to  think  of  Rabbi  Mayer,  but  instead  found 
herself  repeating  the  passages  that  came  to  her 
from  Simeon's  room.  And  suddenly  there 
flashed  upon  her  the  Idea  that  Rabbi  Ismael's 
son  must  cherish  a  love  in  his  heart.  It  must  be 
a  wife  or  a  sweetheart;  either  he  loved  her  with 
intense  passion  or  was  longing  for  her  endlessly. 
And  If  his  voice  was  now  so  joyful  it  must  be 
that  of  the  thirty  days  a  third  had  already 
passed,  and  he  would  soon  return  to  his  be- 
loved. 

Now,  however,  she  could  no  longer  repeat 
after  him  the  verses  from  the  Song  of  Songs, 
from  him  to  her^ — his  beloved;  his  wife  or  his 
sweetheart.     Beruriah  buried  her  head  in  her 


BERURIAH  53 

pillows,  pulled  the  coverlet  over  It,  and  stopped 
her  ears  with  her  hands  so  as  to  keep  out 
Simeon's  voice  and  his  love  verses;  she  turned 
all  her  thoughts  to  Rabbi  Mayer  and  began 
to  recite  the  other  passages  from  the  Song  of 
Songs, — the  passages  from  her  to  him,  and  her 
heart  languished  for  him,  for  her  husband,  for 
her  beloved,  for  her  great  love  and  yearning. 

And  once  more,  after  the  Sabbath  closing 
prayers,  before  he  went  into  his  room  he  turned 
to  her  with  great  tenderness. 

"Forgive  me  the  glances,  my  hostess,  that  I 
cast  upon  you  yester  eve  and  to-day." 

She  shuddered  at  the  unexpectedness  of  his 
words,  and  could  not  understand  his  begging 
pardon. 

"What  manner  of  glances  were  they?"  she 
asked. 

He  whispered  softly,  "Then  you  did  not 
notice  them?" 

"They  were  glances  of  intensest  exaltation, 
filled  with  wonderment  and  deep-felt  ardour. 
However,  they  did  not  belong  to  me." 


54  TEMPTATIONS 

"You  are  wrong.     To  you !" 

"To  me?" 

She  rose  to  her  full  height  and  her  face  grew 
pale  and  austere. 

He,  in  ecstasy,  proclaimed,  "Yes,  to  you! — 
Have  you  beheld  how  joyous  I  have  been  these 
last  few  days?" 

"I  heard  it  in  your  voice." 

"And  do  you  know  the  cause?" 

"Have  you,  then,  told  me?" 

"I'll  tell  you  now.  The  cause  was  you 
alone." 

Her  face  assumed  an  even  colder  expression, 
and  her  eyes  became  even  sterner.  The  shadow 
of  anger  crossed  her  forehead  and  her  brows, 
and  he  cried  out,  with  delight,  as  if  to  drive 
away  the  evil  shadow : 

"Oh,  Beruriah,  hear  me  out!  For  three 
days  and  three  nights  I  was  filled  with  the  grief 
of  your  grief;  for  three  days  and  three  nights 
I  have  not  ceased  to  ask  why  you  were  so 
heavily  punished  with  the  death  of  your  two 
little  ones — You,  the  chosen  of  God, — ^you,  the 


BERURIAH  S5 

blessed  one!  If  I  asked  that  even  before  I 
knew  you,  how  then  must  it  have  cried  aloud 
within  me  when  the  greatness  of  your  soul  was 
discovered  to  me  in  all  its  splendour?  To  think 
that  you  of  all  should  be  martyred  so !  That 
you  should  be  the  victim  of  a  never-ending  sor- 
row! And  my  heart  rebelled  within  me,  and 
like  Job  I  could  see  no  justice  in  the  ways  of 
God.  And  when  one  ceases  to  behold  justice 
in  the  ways  of  God,  how  dark  and  dreary  must 
the  world  become!  But  suddenly,  on  the 
fourth  day,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  God  must 
have  raised  a  trifle  the  veil  that  screens  the 
purpose  of  His  deeds  and  allowed  me  to  gaze 
upon  their  goal.  How  would  the  world  have 
realised  the  grandeur  of  your  soul,  if  not 
through  the  great  grief  that  befell  you?  How 
should  we  have  known  what  Beruriah  was,  if 
her  heart  had  not  been  delivered  into  the  hands 
of  the  torturer?  Your  two  sons,  had  they 
lived,  would  have  made  mankind  richer  by  two 
living  beings, — perhaps  worthless  ones,  un- 
necessary,  unhappy;   but  through   their   death 


56  TEMPTATIONS 

they  made  humanity  the  richer  by 'a  living  Beru- 
riah.  Now  for  the  first  time  do  we  conceive 
what  we  possess  in  you;  now  for  the  first  time 
do  we  know  your  worth.  That  which  lay  veiled 
in  darkness  has  been  illuminated  by  a  glorious 
light.  Boundless  treasures  that  have  lain  buried 
have  been  brought  forth  for  the  use  of  all.  We 
have  all  grown  richer  through  you,  and  future 
generations  will  enjoy  that  wealth.  As  from 
a  spring  of  life  humanity  will  imbibe  its  power 
from  you,  its  consolation.  'See,'  they  will  say, 
'how  Beruriah  mastered  her  enormous  grief, 
her  double  bereavement.  Emulate  her  and  be 
consoled!'  Oh,  Beruriah,  when  this  flashed 
upon  me,  how  could  I  help  feel  joyous,  and  how 
could  I  keep  my  glances  from  betraying  exalta- 
tion and  admiration  for  you?" 

And  before  Beruriah  could  open  her  lips  to 
make  reply,  he  fell  to  his  knees  and  kissed  the 
hem  of  her  garment,  pressing  it  to  his  lips  far 
longer  than  the  first  time ;  then  he  arose  and  left 
the  room,  holding  his  head  erect,  half-dancing, 
in  token  of  his  jubilation.     And  soon  his  voice 


BERURIAH  57 

was  resounding  through  the  house, — a  ringing, 
singing,  joyous,  jubilant  voice,  filled  with  power 
and  fervour.  Was  not  Beruriah  now  full  of 
him  ?     Had  he  not  won  her  now  ? 

Beruriah  sat  in  confusion,  indeed  full  of  his 
voice  and  his  presence,  and  at  times  it  seemed  as 
if  an  angel  from  heaven  were  addressing  her. 
Only  when  she  was  able  to  give  thought  to  what 
he  had  said  could  she  liberate  herself  from  his 
spell.  Her  mind  grew  clearer  and  with  a  sigh 
she  rose.  And  this  is  what  she  told  her  un- 
happy mother-heart: 

"It  is  possible  that  the  world  has  been  made 
richer,  and  that  such  was  the  purpose  of  God 
when  he  took  from  me  my  two  children.  He 
has  His  goal  and  His  aims,  and  His  ways  are 
hidden  from  our  sight.  But  I  have  become  so 
poor,  so  poor.  .  .  ." 

VIII 

During  the  whole  of  the  first  day  of  the 
new  week  his  voice  was  scarcely  heard,  and 
Beruriah     wondered.       Had     anything     hap- 


58  TEMPTATIONS 

pened  to  him?  She  fairly  longed  for  his  voice. 
The  aged  servant,  however,  brought  her  the 
news  that  the  guest,  for  the  most  part,  paced 
back  and  forth  In  his  room.  And  when  he 
seated  himself  at  his  table,  he  burled  his  head 
in  his  arms  and  remained  thus  motionless. 

And  Beruriah  said  that  surely  he  had  en- 
countered a  difficult  passage  In  the  Torah. 
Rabbi  Mayer,  too,  was  in  the  habit  of  acting 
so  when  confronted  by  a  perplexing  problem, 
and  the  student  must  take   after  the  master. 

Yet  that  same  evening  his  voice  was  heard 
again,  but  altogether  altered.  There  was  in  it 
nothing  of  its  former  joyousness,  and  nothing 
of  its  still  earlier  sorrow.  There  was,  how- 
ever, a  certain  something  that  made  Beruriah 
listen,  pouring  unrest  into  her  soul.  It  was 
a  note  of  yearning,  and  a  note  of  entreaty.  A 
sort  of  petulance,  as  if  from  a  pampered  child, 
and  a  kind  of  supplication,  like  a  beggar  at  the 
door.  What  did  his  voice  wish  now  to  say? 
What  did  It  mean  now  ?  To  whom  was  he  now 
speaking?     To  God?     To  his  own  heart?     In 


BERURIAH  59 

what  measure  was  she,  Berurlah,  here  in- 
volved? If  at  first  it  had  been  she  who  sounded 
in  his  voice,  what  did  he  wish  of  her  now? 
Was  he  praying  to  God  in  her  behalf?  What 
did  he  ask  of  God  for  her? 

She  tossed  from  side  to  side  upon  her  bed, 
and  thought  how  really  wondrous  was  this  man. 
She  saw  him  stand  before  her  in  all  his  beauty, 
with  his  sadness  and  his  fervour,  and  with  his 
eyes  in  which  the  colours  dissolved;  she  heard 
his  voice,  which  penetrated  her  heart  and  her 
very  soul;  she  exiled  her  thoughts  with  the 
ardent  prayer  that  the  thirty  days  should  pass 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

But  the  days  that  followed  dragged  on 
frightfully,  for  they  were  filled  with  a  rising 
pathos  and  plaintiveness  in  Simeon's  voice, — 
with  increasing  supplication  and  entreaty.  It 
rose  to  an  ever  louder  appeal  for  pity,  an  ever 
more  languishing  cry  for  love.  The  air  in 
Beruriah's  room  became  difficult  for  her  to 
breathe  and  she  began  to  seek  calm  in  long 
walks  and  frequent  visits,  but  she  was  haunted 


6o  TEMPTATIONS 

by  the  sensation  that  there  In  her  room  re- 
sounded Simeon's  yearning,  Imploring  voice. 
And  the  voice  followed  her  Into  the  distant 
streets,  walked  with  her  Into  the  strangers' 
houses,  took  part  In  all  her  conversations.  Re- 
turning to  her  home  became  for  Beruriah  a  trial. 
She  could  not  bear  to  listen  to  the  voice;  she 
feared  It,  and  feared  even  more  an  accidental 
meeting  with  him,  for  the  far-off  gaze  of  his 
eyes,  which  had  now  become  quite  black, 
gleamed  with  such  desire  and  love-entreaty  that 
It  was  Impossible  for  a  human  soul  to  bear  It. 
She  awaited  the  Sabbath  eve  with  a  throb- 
bing bosom.  The  approach  of  the  holy  day 
brought  her  no  pleasure.  Her  first  thought 
was  to  have  notified  him  that  she  was  111  and 
could  not  come  to  table.  But  her  second 
thought  was  that  Beruriah,  the  wife  of  Rabbi 
Mayer,  should  not  resort  to  pretexts,  or  hide 
from  any  one.  What,  Indeed,  was  Simeon  to 
her?  What  mattered  to  her  the  unrest  of  his 
heart?  She  should  never  have  noticed  the 
quality  of  his  voice  or  the  colour  of  his  eyes. 


BERURIAH  61 

And  If  he  should  ask  again  whether  she  had 
remarked  his  glances,  she  would  reply  that  she 
did  not  wish  to  be  questioned  so,  since  his 
glances  were  of  no  concern  to  her.  Let  him 
better  ask  of  Rabbi  Mayer  whether  he  might 
inquire  of  her  about  his  glances. 

And  thus  she  remained  to  hear  his  Sabbath 
blessings  and  his  Sabbath  songs. 

But  his  voice  no  longer  rang  with  its  Sab- 
bath tones.  It  was  like  a  melodious  violin 
that  had  cracked.  He  thanked  God  and 
blessed  Him,  but  as  one  who  must  thank  and 
must  bless,  and  whose  heart  is  not  in  his  deeds, 
because  he  is  discontent  and  wronged.  He  ate, 
too,  as  one  who  compels  himself,  without  ap- 
petite, against  his  will  and  sparingly.  His 
cloud-grey  eyes  looked  less  at  the  food  before 
him  than  at  Beruriah,  and  his  glances  were  De- 
sire itself, — Yearning  itself. 

And  when,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
there  began  to  resound  through  the  house 
verses  from  the  Song  of  Songs,  in  a  voice  as  of 
doves  cooing,  like  the  cry  of  a  heart  dissolving 


62  TEMPTATIONS 

in  desire,  Beruriah  laid  her  pillow  upon  her 
head  and  placed  her  fingers  in  her  ears,  and  her 
heart  began  to  beat  most  rapidly.  She  knew 
that  the  verses  were  meant  for  her,  were  sent  to 
her,  spoke  to  her,  longed  for  her,  implored  her. 
And  as  she  lay,  she  spoke  to  her  heavy  heart: 
"Lord  of  the  universe,  is  it  not  enough  that 
Thou  hast  punished  my  heart?  Must  Thou 
punish  another  heart  through  me?  If  I  am  to 
be  a  consolation  unto  them  who  believe  in  Thee, 
how  dost  Thou  now  wish  to  make  me  the  great 
grief  and  the  despair  of  one  of  Thy  worship- 
pers? Lord  of  the  universe,  was  Beruriah, 
Thy  chosen  one.  Thy  blessed  one,  born  to  ex- 
perience misfortune  and  to  spread  it?  Lord 
God,  I  wept  not  on  Thy  holy  Sabbath,  when 
both  my  little  children  passed  away.  Wouldst 
Thou  have  me  now  to  weep  before  Thee?  Oh, 
God  of  Abraham,  turn  his  heart  from  me,  and 
turn  his  thoughts  to  Thee.  Reveal  me  that 
infinite  grace.  Lord  of  the  universe !" 

And  because  Simeon,  at  this  juncture,  ceased 
his  singing,  overcome  by  grief  and  weariness  as 


BERURIAH  63 

sleep,  like  a  heavy  burden,  pressed  his  lids,  it 
seemed  to  Beruriah  that  God  had  heard  her 
prayer.  She  now  remov^ed  the  pillow  from  her 
head  and  placed  it  underneath  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  filled  with  gratitude.  Then  she  fell  Into 
a  peaceful  slumber. 

On  the  following  day,  however,  Beruriah 
saw  that  God  had  not  heard  her  prayer  nor 
answered  It.  For  the  voice  of  Rabbi  Ismael's 
son  was  charged  with  supplication  and  his  eyes 
brimmed  over  with  desire.  And  it  was  after 
the  closing  prayers,  when  Simeon  had  turned 
to  Beruriah  to  ask  about  his  glances.  Beruriah 
was  not  to  be  seen.  She  had  disappeared,  be- 
cause she  knew  that  his  mouth  could  be  stopped 
and  his  lips  sealed  by  neither  sharp  speech  nor 
angry  rebuke.  His  accumulated  yearning  would 
find  a  way,  and  his  passion  would  burst  from  his 
heart;  he  would  sin  grievously  against  God  with 
his  words  and  his  deeds.  And  how  would  she 
then  be  able  to  keep  him  under  her  roof?  And 
the  thirty  days  were  not  yet  over. 

But  Simeon  knew  that  Beruriah  had  noticed 


64  TEMPTATIONS 

his  glances  and  interpreted  his  voice  aright. 
His  heart  was  therefore  flooded  with  joy  and 
hope.  She  had  disappeared  because  she  felt 
her  weakness ;  her  strength  had  begun  to  waver. 
The  struggle  within  her  had  already  com- 
menced, and  he  would  be  her  conqueror. 

IX 

For  three  days  longer  the  yearning  and  the 
entreaty  continued.  And  of  a  sudden  the 
voice  was  transformed  into  a  wild,  unbearable 
shrieking.  Simeon  had  fallen  into  despair. 
The  thirty  days  were  fast  drawing  to  a  close 
and  his  love  for  Beruriah  had  flamed  up  like 
the  fires  of  hell.  He  lost  his  peace  of  mind 
entirely,  and  his  body  began  to  be  consumed  by 
passion.  His  cheeks  grew  thin,  his  eyes  looked 
sunken,  reddish-yellow,  ill.  It  seemed  to  him 
as  if  his  body  were  incessantly  smitten,  and 
within,  his  being  cried  aloud  its  pain.  His 
voice  took  up  the  cry.  But  it  was  the  cry 
of  the  ox  for  the  cow, — only  more  passionate, 
more  pain-stricken,  more  excruciating. 


BERURIAH  65 

When  Beruriah  heard  such  a  voice  she  was 
seized  with  trembling;  a  feeling  of  disgust 
surged  over  her.  For  days  at  a  time  she 
shunned  her  very  dwelling,  but  the  suffering  of 
repulsion  she  carried  plainly  with  her.  Who- 
ever met  her  said,  "Beruriah  is  stricken  with  an 
evil  illness."  And  her  friends  questioned  her, 
"Wha«t  has  befallen  you?"  She  avoided  all 
encounter  with  Simeon,  and  at  night  in  her  room 
she  had  her  aged  servant  stay  with  her.  Fri- 
day evening  she  had  Simeon  notified  that  she 
could  not  come  to  table,  but  that  she  would 
hear  his  saying  of  grace  from  where  she  lay. 
His  saying  of  grace,  however,  caused  her  to 
shudder.  He  groaned  it  rather  than  recited  it. 
His  breath  came  like  that  of  an  animal  wounded 
unto  death.  His  voice  was  hoarse  and  choked 
with  angry  tears.  He  barely  approached  his 
food  and  looked  around  with  savage  eyes.  The 
old  domestic  heaved  a  sigh  of  thankfulness 
when  Simeon  dashed  from  the  dining-room. 
Had  he  sung  the  Sabbath  songs?  Had  he 
blessed  the  Lord?     Or  had  he  been  uttering 


66  TEMPTATIONS 

blasphemy  altogether?  His  voice  rang  more 
with  upbraiding  than  with  benediction.  Now 
he  knew  that  God  had  forsaken  him,  and  had 
showed  him  Beruriah  only  to  crush  him.  Need 
he  restrain  himself?  Need  he  pretend?  Let 
the  woman  know  how  he  was  suffering  through 
her, — how  he  lov^ed  her,  how  he  desired  her. 

And  amidst  the  gloom  of  his  room,  he  re- 
peated in  a  voice  made  hoarse  with  lust,  pas- 
sages from  the  Song  of  Songs, — those  impreg- 
nated with  most  love  and  passion. 

"How  fair  and  how  pleasant  art  thou,  Oh 
love,  for  delights!  This  thy  stature  is  like  to 
a  palm  tree,  and  thy  breasts  to  clusters  of 
grapes.  I  said,  I  will  go  up  to  the  palm  tree, 
I  will  take  hold  of  the  branches  thereof:  now 
also  thy  breasts  shall  be  as  clusters  of  the  vine, 
and  the  smell  of  thy  nose  hke  apples." 

He  sang  them  again  and  again,  wildly,  pas- 
sionately, lustfully. 

And  Beruriah  was  engulfed  in  still  deeper 
loathing.  It  was  as  though  some  one  had  made 
her  body  unclean.     She  huddled  together,  shud- 


BERURIAH  67 

dering.  She  opened  her  eyes  wide,  peering  into 
the  dense  darkness,  speaking  to  God  as  if  she 
beheld  Him  there  before  her,  in  the  gloom. 

"I  accepted  as  a  boon  the  grievous  sorrow 
Thou  sentest  unto  me.  But  this  indignity  I 
cannot  suffer.  How  have  I  merited  it?  What 
is  Thy  aim?  How  have  I  sinned  that  Thou  so 
shouldst  humble  me?  My  heart  is  weak  and 
wracked;  wouldst  Thou  rend  it  utterly?  Then 
tear  it  out,  Oh  Lord,  and  I  will  thank  Thee. 
But  remove  from  me  the  burden  of  this  insult. 
Deliver  me  from  this  uncleanliness." 

The  lustful  voice,  however,  did  not  cease. 
Indeed,  it  rang  with  even  greater  lust,  grovelling 
before  her,  embracing  her,  clawing  her.  And 
Beruriah  groaned  like  a  wounded  deer,  taking 
refuge  beneath  her  pillow  and  her  coverlet,  as 
if  to  smother  herself,  prepared  to  die — 

All  that  Sabbath  day  she  remained  in  her 
room,  behind  lock  and  key, — indignant,  over- 
come by  aversion,  anger,  fury.  Too,  on 
the  other  days  she  avoided  Simeon,  even  as  a 


68  TEMPTATIONS 

nauseating  leper  is  tremblingly  shunned.  But 
on  the  thirtieth  day  Simeon  lay  in  waiting,  and 
late  in  the  afternoon  met  her  face  to  face.  He 
was  dressed  ready  for  his  departure,  staff  in 
hand  and  wallet  across  his  shoulder.  But  not 
the  proud,  handsome  Simeon  stood  before  her; 
not  the  Adonis  who  had  turned  Jew.  He  was 
wan,  thin,  bent;  his  face  sallow,  his  eyes  sunken, 
feverish  and  red;  his  beard  unkempt;  his  head- 
covering  awry.  Adonis  had  forgotten  to  be 
beautiful.  Adonis  had  become  infirm  and  old. 
Adonis  bore  in  his  heart  a  fatal  wound. 

Beruriah  straightened  up  in  all  her  pride,  in 
all  her  beauty,  and  looked  at  him  ruthlessly, 
haughtily,  wishing  to  pass  him  by.  But  he 
barred  her  way.  A  moment  they  eyed  each 
other  without  a  word;  then  he  opened  his  lips 
and  spoke  to  her: 

"Cursed  be  the  day  when  I  first  gazed  upon 
you,  but  sevenfold  accursed  be  the  day  on  which 
my  companions  chose  me  to  be  your  touchstone, 
and  seventy-seven  times  accursed  be  the  day  on 
which  I  crossed  the  threshold  of  your  home. 


BERURIAH  69 

May  these  days  be  obliterated  from  God's  year, 
and  may  the  memory  of  them  be  a  curse  for 
generations.  May  they  be  days  of  calam- 
ity " 

Beruriah  interrupted  his  malediction,  speak- 
ing with  merciless  austerity: 

"Job,  too,  did  once  the  same  and  cursed  a 
day  of  God's.  You  may  spare  yourself  this 
art  of  imprecation.  Go  your  way  and  thank 
God  that  he  led  you  to  Beruriah's  home,  and 
brought  you  not  to  greater  sin, — Thank  Him 
that  two  souls  were  rescued  from  eternal  per- 
dition. But  before  you  leave,  explain  one 
thing  to  me.  What  do  you  mean  when  you  say 
that  your  companions  chose  you  to  be  my  touch- 
stone?    If  I  understand  you  aright " 

Her  glance  was  sharp  and  deeply  penetrating, 
and  Simeon  replied,  "You  have  understood  me 
aright!" 

With  eyes  agape  and  quickening  breath  she 
questioned  further. 

"And  the  story  of  the   agents  was  a  lie?" 


70  TEMPTATIONS 

Simeon  answered  feverishly,  trembling  in 
every  limb. 

"The  tale  was  false  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end.  No  single  word  of  truth  was  in  it. 
The  Academy,  who  knew  the  fortitude  of  your 
heart  against  death,  wished  to  know,  too,  the 
strength  of  your  heart  against  love.  And  they 
chose  me " 

Again  she  interrupted  his  account,  with  star- 
ing eyes  and  breath  that  came  in  gasps. 

"And— Rabbi— Mayer  ?" 

"i/^  devised  the  plan." 

She  uttered  a  shriek  as  if  her  heart  had  sud- 
denly been  pierced,  breathed  heavily  and  shut 
her  eyes.  A  moment  later  she  asked,  with  her 
eyes  still  closed,  "Did  Rabbi  Mayer,  too,  de- 
sire to  know  the  fortitude  of  my  heart  against 
sinful  love?" 

And  Simeon  answered  weakly,  wearily: 

"At  first  he  flew  into  a  fury  against  the  stu- 
dents for  their  doubts  as  to  your  virtue,  but 
afterwards  their  mistrust  became  his  mistrust." 


BERURIAH  71 

Beruriah,  astounded,  groaned  with  pain,  and 
Simeon  continued  his  account: 

"  'The  apple  Is  wondrous  fair,'  said  Rabbi 
Mayer,  'but  who  can  say  what  passes  In  Its 
heart?'" 

Beruriah  moaned,  more  heavily  grieved  than 
ever.  And  Simeon,  mercilessly,  indifferently, 
wearily  added,  "And  he  said,  'What  does  one 
do  to  learn  whether  the  beautiful  apple  Is  sound 
at  the  core?    He  cuts  it  open '  " 

Beruriah  turned,  wincing  as  if  under  knives, 
and  suddenly  wailed  In  a  voice  that  was  not  her 
own,  "Go!"  Then  she  rushed  into  her  room, 
her  eyes  closed,  stupefied,  stunned. 

And  Simeon  went  forth  upon  his  way,  slowly, 
exhaustedly,  his  head  bowed  and  his  limbs 
heavy,  like  one  who  has  been  banished  Into 
exile, — homeless  and  forlorn. 

X 

Beruriah  stood  In  her  room,  pressing  her 
hands  to  her  face,  to  her  eyes,  as  if  seeking 
to     drive     something     away, — a     nightmare, 


72  TEMPTATIONS 

an  evil  vision.  She  closed  her  eyes,  sud- 
denly, and  as  suddenly  opened  them  wide — 
once,  twice,  three  times;  her  heart  beat  wildly 
and  shrieked  strange  things  within  her. 

*'//^  had  doubts  about  me !  He  sent  a  man 
to  test  me!     Is  It  possible?     Is  it  possible?" 

She  ran  In  pursuit  of  Simeon.  She  must 
question  him  further.  Perhaps  he  had  told  her 
a  lie?  Perhaps  this  tale  of  testing  was  his  own 
Invention?  Perhaps  the  story  about  the  agents 
was  the  truth  ?  Perhaps  she  had  heard  wrong? 
May  It  not  all  have  been  a  fiction  of  her 
imagination?     Maybe  it  was  all  an  evil  dream? 

Simeon  was  far  along  the  road,  walking  with 
heavy  step,  as  If  grown  old.  She  wished  to  call 
to  him,  to  run  after  him,  but  suddenly  it  came 
to  her  that  this  was  neither  an  evil  dream  nor 
her  fantasy, — ^that  this  time  the  son  of  Rabbi 
Ismael  had  not  deceived  her.  The  curse  that 
he  had  called  down  upon  the  second  day  had 
surely  not  been  feigned.  The  words  he  had 
put  into  Rabbi  Mayer's  mouth  came  surely 
from  Rabbi  Mayer. 


BERURIAH  73 

Tears  began  to  oppress  her  and  she  hastened 
back  to  her  room,  threw  herself  upon  the  bed 
and  burst  into  long  and  bitter  weeping.  She 
tore  her  hair,  sank  her  nails  into  her  cheeks, 
bit  the  bed-clothes  beneath  her,  wailing  and 
lamenting.  But  when  she  heard  the  steps  of 
her  aged  servant,  she  mastered  herself,  grew 
quiet  and  lay  there  calmly.  She  placed  herself 
so  that  it  might  appear  she  lay  there  thus, 
asleep. 

The  servant  brought  in  lights  and  reminded 
her  that  it  was  time  to  eat  the  evening  meal. 
Beruriah  stammered  she  was  feeling  ill  that 
evening  and  that  food  would  do  her  harm.  But 
the  kind  old  servant  tempted  her  with  some 
dainties  and  asked  whether  the  mistress  would 
want  her  company  that  night,  too,  in  the  bed- 
room. Receiving  the  answer  "No,"  she  wished 
Beruriah  good-night  and  walked  away  to  her 
usual  place. 

Beruriah  lay  with  open  eyes  and  gazed  into 
the  shadows  of  the  half-lighted  room.  Her 
head  was  in  a  maze;  she  could  not  think  a  single 


74  TEMPTATIONS 

definite  thought.  She  only  knew  that  a  terrible 
misfortune  had  befallen  her, — a  misfortune 
greater  far  than  the  loss  of  her  two  sons, — a 
catastrophe  great  beyond  all  explanation.  She 
could  not  yet  conceive  it;  it  was  such  as  must 
undo  her  evermore, — must  work  the  pro- 
foundest  transformation  in  her  life. 

And  all  at  once  she  wearily  arose,  her  eyes 
dilated,  gazing  straight  ahead. 

Yes.  Even  so.  Rabbi  Mayer  could  be  her 
husband  no  longer. 

She  clenched  her  teeth  and  fortified  her 
heart;  her  distended  eyes  still  fixed  their  glance 
before  her.     Now  she  could  think  quite  clearly. 

Had  Rabbi  Mayer  himself  betrayed  no 
doubt,  but  simply  yielded  to  the  doubts  of 
others,  she  would  have  felt  no  insult  and  her 
heart  would  have  remained  quite  calm.  She 
would  have  rejoiced  at  the  strength  of  his 
faith  in  her.  And  her  own  strength,  too, 
would  have  been  a  double  boon.  She  would 
have  twitted  him  upon  the  daring  step  he  had 
taken,   and  told  him  that  such  a   course  was 


BERURIAH  75 

foolish,  and  would  have  aided  him  to  triumph 
over  the  evil  cavillers,  who  had  dared  to  drag 
her  down  into  the  mire  of  their  suspicions. 

But  he  alone  had  doubted!  He  alone  had 
desired  the  test,  to  support  his  faith  In  her. 
He  alone  had  dared  be  unassured  of  his  Beru- 
riah's  strength!  Her  own  husband  had  not 
known  her  heart  and  had  sullied  its  purity  with 
the  filth  of  doubt! 

Suppose  she  had  not  triumphed  over  the  test? 
The  peril  had  been  great;  the  handsome 
Simeon,  too,  was  very  dangerous.  Yet  Rabbi 
Mayer  had  not  feared  to  lose  her.  He  had 
risked  her  in  a  game, — had  led  her  to  sacri- 
fice! 

He  could  be  her  husband  no  longer  I 

She  repeated  this  over  and  over  again,  in- 
sistently, with  raging  harshness  cutting  it  into 
her  soul. 

He  should  have  to  grant  her  a  divorce;  she 
should  remain  alone.    All  alone, — all,  all  alone. 

A  bitter  grief  assailed  her,  making  her  close 
her  eyes,  and  a  great  wretchedness  enfolded 


76  TEMPTATIONS 

her.  She  was  seized  with  a  deep  yearning  for 
her  departed  children;  her  heart  went  out  to 
them;  she  stretched  forth  her  hands  to  them, 
and  pressed  her  hands  to  her  bosom,  shaking 
her  head;  the  tears  came  fast  as  she  whispered 
fond  endearments  and  mother-words. 

She  saw  them  before  her,  just  as  they  looked 
In  the  final  days  before  their  sudden  death. 
Playful,  laughing,  bright.  She  felt  their  pres- 
ence so  plainly  that  she  looked  around  for 
them.  No.  They  were  not  there.  They  were 
dead.  They  lay  In  the  distant  graveyard,  deep 
In  the  cold  earth,  encased  in  boards.  Strewn 
with  earth.  Alone  they  lay  there,  so  forsaken, 
— her  little  darlings, — and  were  longing  per- 
haps for  their  mother,  even  as  their  mother 
longed  for  them. 

This  thought  sank  deep  and  took  root  in  her 
heart.  At  last  she  began  to  weep  softly,  con- 
vulsively: 

"My  children  need  me,  and  I  have  need  of 
them." 

And  when  she  had  wept  out  all  her  tears  she 


BERURIAH  77 

made  a  resolution.  Once  this  was  determined 
upon  she  turned  to  God. 

"What  I  am  about  to  do  is  a  great  trans- 
gression. I  will  disobey  Thy  sacred  command- 
ment and  violate  Thy  counsel.  But  I  cannot  do 
otherwise.  God  in  heaven,  I  can  live  no  longer. 
May  the  good  merits  of  my  father  intercede  for 
me.  The  worth  of  my  father,  the  holy  martyr, 
who  refused  the  offer  of  the  executioner  to 
hasten  his  horrible  death,  lest  the  forced  hasten- 
ing resemble,  in  Thine  eyes,  self-murder.  May 
he  protect  me.  Thou  wilt  have  to  grant  his 
daughter  forgiveness  for  taking  her  own  life 
in  order  all  the  sooner  to  meet  her  children. 
Eternal  God,  take  me  to  them;  part  us  never- 
more. Punish  me  not  after  death  as  severely 
as  Thou  hast  punished  me  in  my  life.  I  sur- 
render my  soul  into  Thy  merciful  hands.  I 
go  to  Thee  and  to  my  children." 

Now  she  arose  from  her  bed  and  garbed  her- 
self in  purest  white,  writing  with  firm  hand 
something  upon  a  tablet.  Then  from  a  casket 
she  drew  a  small,  sharp  knife,  testing  its  blade 


78  TEMPTATIONS 

upon  her  finger-nail.  Calmly  and  piously  she 
prayed  "Hear,  Oh  Israel,"  and  severed  the 
veins  of  both  her  arms.  With  blood  streaming 
from  her,  and  without  a  cry  of  pain,  she  ex- 
tinguished the  light,  stretched  herself  out  upon 
the  bed,  and  began  the  journey  to  her  little 
ones. 

She  kept  her  eyes  wide  open  as  she  lay  there 
bleeding  to  death,  and  beheld  her  children  be- 
fore her.  Far  off  there  in  the  graveyard,  in 
their  graves,  they  had  sat  up,  white  and  steeped 
in  sadness,  awaiting  her  arrival.  And  she  said 
to  them,  "Wait,  I  come  to  you,  my  darling 
sons !  Soon  I  shall  be  with  you,  precious 
hearts!"  Endlessly  she  whispered  fond  en- 
dearments, mother-words. 

Not  for  a  moment  did  she  give  a  thought  to 
the  olden  days.  She  could  behold  only  her 
children  and  the  road  to  them.  Only  at  the 
end,  when  the  long,  long  sleep  was  coming  over 
her  and  the  vision  of  her  children  and  the  way 
to  them  grew  blurred  and  dim,  did  she  utter  in 


BERURIAH  79 

peaceful  yearning,  with  silent  tears,  "Mayer! 
Mayer!" 

XI 

And  it  happened  that  when  the  handsome 
Simeon  returned  to  the  Yeshiva  the  stu- 
dents there  cried  out  in  horror  at  his  altered 
looks. 

"See,"  he  exclaimed,  "what  has  overtaken 
me  because  for  thirty  days  I  dashed  myself 
against  the  stony  strength  of  Beruriah.  Her 
strength  and  purity  are  above  all  uncertainty, 
but  I  am  utterly  undone." 

And  Rabbi  Mayer  glowered  triumphantly  at 
his  disciples,  took  his  staff  and  wallet  and  left 
to  seek  Beruriah.  But  he  found  her  dead, — 
gone  to  join  her  children.  And  on  the  tablet 
were  written  these  few  words:  "He  who  cuts 
open  the  apple  also  destroys  it." 

He  seized  his  temples,  his  eyes  expanded 
wildly,  and  he  burst  forth  Into  a  heart-break- 
ing, soul-rending  wail:    "Beruriah!" 


THE  TEMPTATIONS  OF  RABBI  AKIBA 


THE  TEMPTATIONS  OF  RABBI  AKIBA 

HEAVENS,  how  stern  and  pious  a  Jew 
this  Rabbi  Akiba  was!  Scarcely  his 
peer  to  be  found  in  all  Judea. 

He  devoted  all  his  days  and  all  his  nights  to 
the  Holy  Law,  studying  it  himself  and  ex- 
pounding it  to  others.  The  number  of  his 
disciples  was  a  veritable  army,  and  whoever 
heard  the  Torah  from  his  lips  felt  that  he 
drank  from  the  very  source  of  life. 

Not  only  did  he  teach  the  Torah's  word,  but 
also  how  to  live  its  very  spirit,  how  to  purge 
oneself  of  gaiety;  for  laughter,  play  and  mirth 
all  led  to  sin. 

He,  too,  dwelt  in  all  simplicity,  renouncing 
every  earthly  pleasure.  He  was  deeply  in  love 
with  his  wife,  the  beautiful  Rachel,  the  wise  and 
learned  daughter  of  Kalba-Sabua.  But  in  order 
to  belong  entirely  to  the  Torah  he  even  parted 

83 


84  TEMPTATIONS 

from  his  sweet  beloved  and  became  an  ascetic. 

This  was  a  sore  burden  to  him.  He  longed 
ueeply  for  his  wife,  and  he  was  still  a  man  in  the 
very  prime  of  life.  In  order  not  to  weaken, 
and  to  make  sure  of  maintaining  this  separa- 
tion and  his  pious  seclusion,  he  made  a  vow  to 
himself  that  he  should  not  return  to  his  wife  un- 
til he  acquired  twelve  thousand  disciples.  This 
he  did  because  he  held  that  an  oath  was  as  a 
wall  around  holy  retirement.  He  would  have 
to  keep  his  word  and  his  absence  from  his  wife 
would  thus  be  ensured. 

This  fortitude,  however,  caused  him  to  be 
unrelenting  toward  every  one  else.  What  he 
could  do,  all  must  be  able  to  do.  And  he  de- 
manded of  all  the  strictest  abstention  from  the 
sins  of  the  flesh,  excoriating  with  barbed  words 
the  desire  for  women  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

Whereupon  the  weaklings — those  who  could 
not  withstand  the  woman-lust  in  their  hearts 
and  were  wracked  by  the  sins  of  the  flesh — 
spoke  thus  of  Akiba : 

"Merely  because  he  was  able  to  part  from 


TEMPTATIONS  OF  RABBI  AKIBA      85 

his  wife  is  no  proof  that  he  is  above  tempta- 
tion. Let  Satan  but  approach  him  in  the  form 
of  a  naked  woman  and  lust  will  suddenly  befall 
him  like  an  enemy  from  ambush,  and  rob  him 
of  all  his  senses,  even  as  a  thief  robs  his  victim 
In  the  night." 

And  they  added  to  their  prayers  an  entreaty 
that  God  should  lead  the  Rabbi  into  such 
temptation.  And,  to  their  own  punishment, 
God  heard  their  prayers. 

When  Rabbi  Akiba  left  his  wife  he  also  left 
the  city  in  which  she  dwelt.  This  he  did,  not 
so  much  from  personal  choice,  lest  the  proxim- 
ity of  his  wife  allure  him,  but  rather  for  her 
sake,  lest  his  nearness  too  much  affect  her.  And 
in  order  that  his  wife,  in  her  feminine  weakness, 
should  not  follow  him  to  the  new  place  in  which 
he  intended  to  settle,  he  did  not  for  a  long 
time  establish  himself  anywhere,  journeying 
from  city  to  city  and  from  land  to  land. 

And  once,  in  his  peregrinations,  he  came  to  a 
land  in  which  remarkable  customs  and  manners 


86  TEMPTATIONS 

prevailed.  One  of  these  customs  was  to  sweet- 
en the  nights  of  the  honoured  guests  with  the 
company  of  women. 

And  it  happened  that  when  the  ruler  of  this 
land  learned  of  Rabbi  Akiba's  arrival  and  the 
importance  of  his  guest,  he  sent  to  him  for  the 
night  two  beautiful  damsels,  the  most  beautiful 
in  his  realms.  In  the  manner  of  women  both 
beauties  did  their  best  to  heighten  their  charms 
and  increase  the  power  of  their  attraction. 
They  freshened  themselves  in  the  bath;  the 
enchanting  odour  of  their  youthful  bodies  they 
rendered  more  intoxicating  than  ever  with  rare 
perfumes;  they  arrayed  themselves  seductively 
like  brides  on  the  wedding  night.  And  they 
came  to  Rabbi  Akiba  in  radiant  half-nakedness, 
with  an  inviting  smile  upon  their  cherry 
lips,  with  the  fire  of  passion  and  voluptuousness 
in  their  sparkling  eyes. 

They  knew  that  they  were  going  to  a  highly 
honoured  guest,  but  they  did  tiot  know  that 
they  would  encounter  a  very  handsome  man  of 
gigantic  stature.     When  they  beheld  him  their 


TEMPTATIONS  OF  RABBI  AKIBA      87 

passion  flamed  still  higher,  and  each  tried  to 
display  before  him  the  most  enticing  allure- 
ments of  her  person. 

"Come  to  me,"  said  one. 

"Come  to  me,"  invited  the  other. 

And  they  passed  close  to  him  with  their 
naked  bodies,  and  each  praised  her  person  and 
its  charms,  and  the  pleasures  it  afforded. 

"My  body  is  as  white  as  the  full  moon." 

"And  my  body  is  as  rosy  as  the  rising  sun." 

"In  my  embrace  you  will  lie  as  softly  as  in 
warm  down." 

"And  in  my  arms  you  will  feel  the  tender 
warmth  of  newly-shorn  lambs'  wool." 

"The  kiss  of  my  lips  is  like  the  wine  of 
Damascus." 

"And  my  lips  are  like  the  round  grapes  in 
which  the  sunbeams  have  chosen  their  home." 

And  thus  they  continued, — the  firmness  of 
their  breasts,  the  velvety  softness  of  their  skin, 
the  ravishing  delight  of  their  legs,  and  the  in- 
toxication of  their  tenderness.  One  wrapped 
him    about   with    her   dark    hair;    the    blonde 


88  te:mptations 

tresses  of  the  other  likewise  enmeshed  him. 
And  with  the  passing  of  the  hours  their  lust 
increased;  their  naked  bodies  turned  and 
writhed,  wracked  and  tortured  by  rising  desire. 

"Come,  take  me!"  implored  the  one. 

"Come,  take  me!"  panted  the  other. 

But  Rabbi  Akiba  sat  between  them  and — 
spat.  For  a  whole  night  he  sat  between  them 
and  spat,  looking  neither  upon  one  nor  the 
other.  He  did  not  try  to  distract  his  mind 
with  Torah  thoughts,  for  he  did  not  wish  to 
bring  the  Torah  into  the  company  of  two  naked 
women.  He  simply  tried  to  work  himself  into 
a  feeling  of  repulsion,  to  rouse  within  him  a 
powerful  resistance. 

And  thus  he  sat  and  spat — more  vehemently, 
more  impatiently  than  ever,  with  rising  disgust, 
with  increasing  aversion.  At  last,  however,  he 
became  calm,  indifferent,  ice-cold. 

At  first  the  two  beautiful  damsels  looked  at 
him  in  astonishment.  Why  was  he  spitting  so? 
Why  did  he  not  touch  them?  Was  he  a  fool? 
Was    he    crazy?      Were    they    not    beautiful 


TEMPTATIONS  OF  RABBI  AKIBA      89 

enough?  Not  young  enough?  Not  passionate 
enough? 

They  questioned  him;  he  vouchsafed  no 
reply.  Then  they  were  on  the  point  of  leaving 
him,  when  they  looked  at  him  again  and  saw 
how  handsome  he  was,  and  gazed  once  more 
into  his  eyes  and  saw  wisdom  itself  beaming 
out  of  them.  Then  they  forgot  his  remarkable 
behaviour,  disregarded  his  incessant  spitting, 
threw  their  nakedness  and  the  fire  of  their 
bodies  upon  him,  and  pleaded  and  begged  and 
groaned,   calling  to  him  in  their  intoxication. 

"Take  7ner 

"Take  meV 

The  whole  night  passed  in  this  way.  In  the 
morning,  weary  and  exhausted,  they  went  to  the 
ruler  and  complained  to  him  against  Rabbi 
Akiba.  In  despair,  they  cried  out,  "Sooner 
death  than  another  time  with  that  man!" 

The  ruler  sent  for  Rabbi  Akiba  and  ques- 
tioned him. 

"Why  did  you  not  act  toward  the  women  I 
sent  in  to  you   as  the   sons   of  man   act  with 


90  TEMPTATIONS 

women?  Are  they  not  beautiful?  Are  they 
not  human,  like  you?  Has  not  He,  who  created 
you,  likewise  created  them?" 

If  Rabbi  Akiba  had  replied  that,  in  spending 
the  night  with  them  in  the  manner  of  the  sons 
of  man  with  woman,  he  would  have  committed 
a  sin,  then  the  ruler  would  surely  become  angry. 
Did  his  hospitality  then  lead  to  sin?  Was  his 
hospitality  an  incentive  to  wrong-doing? 

Rabbi  Akiba's  wisdom  saw  this  at  once,  and 
with  an  altogether  innocent  expression  he  re- 
plied, "What  could  I  do?  Before  they  came 
to  me  they  must  surely  have  eaten  impure 
things,  and  the  odour  from  them  was  that  of 
carrion-meat,  impurities,  reptiles." 

And  Rabbi  Akiba  quickly  left  this  land  with 
its  remarkable  hospitality,  happy  in  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  overcome  the  greatest  of 
temptations, — filled  with  thanks  to  God  for 
having  so  wonderfully  given  strength  to  his 
heart. 

As  the  number  of  his  disciples  at  this  time 
had   reached  to   twelve   thousand,   and  as  the 


TEMPTATIONS  OF  RABBI  AKIBA     91 

wall  that  separated  him  from  his  wife  thereby 
crumbled,  he  went  back  to  her.  As  he  came 
to  the  door  of  his  house  he  heard  a  strange 
woman  say  to  his  wife,  "Are  you  happy  that 
your  husband  Is  returning  after  having  ac- 
quired twelve  thousand  disciples?" 

"I  should  be  still  happier,"  answered  his 
wife,  "If  he  returned  with  twenty-four  thou- 
sand." 

And  Rabbi  Akiba  did  not  open  the  door  of 
his  house,  nor  did  he  go  in  to  his  wife.  Once 
again  he  Imposed  upon  himself  separation  from 
his  m.ate,  and  erected  a  new  wall  about  himself, 
with  a  vow  that  he  should  not  approach  his 
wife  until  he  acquired  four  and  twenty  thou- 
sand disciples.  And  again  he  left,  to  wander 
through  cities  and  lands,  to  spread  the  word  of 
God  and  assemble  disciples. 

From  now  on  he  became  more  severe  than 
ever  In  his  religious  demands,  and  his  con- 
demnations grew  harsher.  One  who,  like  him, 
had  triumphed  over  such  great  temptations,  had 
full  right  to  demand  similar  continence  and  will- 


92  TEMPTATIONS 

power  on  the  part  of  others.  And  he  was  wont 
to  mock,  jeer  and  jest  at  all  who  committed  a 
sin. 

He  had  forgotten  the  saying:  "Believe  not 
thyself  until  the  day  of  thy  death."  And  in 
Heaven  it  was  decreed  that  he  should  be  re- 
minded of  it. 

One  day  his  travels  led  him  to  a  beautiful 
spot,  through  woods  and  fields.  It  was  a  won- 
derful day.  The  sun,  midway  in  the  sky,  did 
not  burn,  but  laughed  and  sang  of  the  splendour 
of  existence,  pouring  out  joy  upon  the  entire 
land,  upon  wood  and  field,  upon  tree  and  grass. 
All  the  birds  and  beasts  and  insects  laughed  and 
sang  together  with  it.  Rabbi  Akiba,  filled  with 
the  great  gladness,  forgot  the  passage  of  the 
Torah  that  was  running  through  his  mind  and 
across  his  lips  but  a  moment  before,  and  could 
not  remove  his  glance  from  the  sunny  splen- 
dours that  surrounded  him. 

Suddenly  it  seemed  as  if  some  one  had  thrust 
him  backward.     But  it  was  nobody.     It  was 


TEMPTATIONS  OF  RABBI  AKIBA      93 

his  own  blood,  and  the  blow  that  he  had  felt  was 
the  throb  of  his  own  heart. 

Were  not  his  eyes  deceiving  him?  He 
opened  them  wide  and  looked  again,  intently. 

No.  His  eyes  saw  clearly.  A  wondrously 
beautiful  naked  girl  at  the  top  of  a  palm  tree. 

He  could  not  believe  his  eyes,  but  there  was 
the  girl  looking  down  at  him,  smiling  at  him  so 
enticingly,  intoxicating  him  with  the  pearly 
whiteness  of  her  teeth. 

She  was  so  beautiful  and  entrancing  that  the 
sun  had  forgot  its  wedding-procession.  It  had 
stopped  in  its  path — this  shining  star — and  had 
enfolded  the  maiden's  naked  body  in  its  rays, 
colouring  it  a  rosy  red  and  fiUing  its  veins  with 
red  wine. 

Rabbi  Akiba,  too,  stopped  in  his  path,  unable 
to  move  from  the  spot,  unable  to  tear  himself 
away  from  the  dazzling  vision.  His  heart 
palpitated,  his  body  burned,  his  tongue  became 
dry.  He  stood  dumbfounded,  and  could  not 
himself  hear  how  he  barely  managed  to  utter, 
"Who  are  you?" 


94  TEMPTATIONS 

And  the  vision  upon  the  tree  laughed  seduc- 
tively down  to  him. 

"Come  up  and  I  will  tell  you." 

"What  are  you  doing  there?" 

"Come  up,  and  you  shall  see." 
'Are  you  gathering  dates?" 
'What  need  have  I  of  them?     I  feed  myself 
and  feed  others  with  my  own  sweetness.     Do 
you  not  wish  to  taste  it?" 

"Why  are  you  naked?" 

"So  that  the  sunbeams  may  enjoy  me,  and 
the  wind,  and  the  hills,  and  the  valleys,  and  the 
heavens,  and  God." 

"How  can  you  he  there  so?" 
•  "I  have  a  couch  here  made  of  leaves  and 
branches, — a  soft  couch  for  me  and  for  those 
whom  I  invite  to  enjoy  me.  Soft  is  my  bed  and 
fragrant, — but  even  softer  and  more  fragrant 
am  I.     Will  you  not  feel  us?" 

And  in  utter  forgetfulness,  filled  with  a 
single  intense  desire.  Rabbi  Akiba  approached 
very  close  to  the  tree  and  scarcely  had  breath 
to  ask,  "How  can  I  get  to  you?" 


TEMPTATIONS  OF  RABBI  AKIBA      95 

The  glorious  vision  uttered  a  magic  laugh. 

"Were  you,  then,  never  a  little  boy?  What 
did  you  do  when  a  tempting  apple  nodded  to 
you  from  among  the  branches  of  an  apple-tree? 
You  removed  your  clothes,  made  yourself  as 
light  as  possible,  and  climbed  up  the  tree  after 
the  beautiful,  ripening  fruit.  Am  I  less  than 
the  fruit?  Is  it  not  worth  while  to  climb  up 
after  me?  Or  are  you  old,  and  have  your 
bones  become  hard,  and  is  climbing  now  be- 
yond your  years  and  your  strength?  Take  off 
your  clothes;  you  will  have  no  need  of  them  in 
any  case,  up  here.  Make  yourself  light,  and 
with  all  the  youth  that  has  now  been  born  anew 
in  you,  climb  up  to  me.   ..." 

Enchanted  and  intoxicated,  as  hastily  as  pos- 
sible, whipped  on  by  driving  impatience,  Rabbi 
Akiba  cast  off  his  clothes  and  seized  the  trunk 
of  the  palm-tree,  beginning  to  climb  aloft.  With 
his  naked  hands  and  feet  around  the  shaggy 
bark,  with  his  burning  eyes  riveted  upon  her 
above,  drinking  in  her  beauty,  sucking  in  the 
warm  ruddiness  of  her  veins.      He   did  not 


96  TEMPTATIONS 

notice  that  his  skin  was  being  scratched  and 
torn  by  the  bark  of  the  tree,  and  that  blood  was 
beginning  to  flow  over  his  body.  He  climbed 
higher,  ever  higher. 

And  her  magic  eyes  drew  him  on  as  if  with 
ropes  and  her  fascinating  voice  was  as  a  guide 
to  him.  From  between  her  pearly  teeth  it 
poured  forth  like  wine  that  robbed  the  senses. 
"Come!  Co-o-ome!  Co-o-ome!" 
But  when  he  had  climbed  half  the  height  of 
the  palm  he  suddenly  came  to  himself.  It 
was  as  if  a  cold  wind  had  icily  bedewed  him 
and  had  blown  something  away  from  before 
his  eyes,  making  him  see  the  complete  ludicrous- 
ness  and  unworthiness  of  his  position.  He, 
the  renowned  Master,  teacher  and  judge  among 
the  Jews,  climbing,  half-naked,  up  a  tall  tree, 
driven  and  goaded  on  by  lust!  He  threw  him- 
self down,  rather  than  descended,  from  the 
tree,  rolled  himself  into  a  ball  at  its  foot,  and 
burst  into  bitter  tears. 

A  malicious,  mocking  voice  spoke  above  him : 
"Had  it  not  been  decreed  in  Heaven  that  you 


TEMPTATIONS  OF  RABBI  AKIBA      97 

and  your  Torah  should  be  protected,  your  life 
at  this  moment  would  not  be  worth  a  straw." 

Rabbi  Akiba  wept  more  bitterly  than  ever, 
striking  his  breasts  and  beating  his  head. 

He  dressed  and  continued  on  his  way.  The 
sun  no  longer  shone;  heaven  and  earth  were 
veiled  In  greyish  fog,  and  the  laughter  and 
song  of  the  surrounding  scene  now  ceased.  Or 
perhaps  it  merely  seemed  so  to  him  because 
his  heart  was  bitter  and  his  soul  grieved;  he 
looked  neither  to  right  nor  to  left  and  his  ears 
were  deaf  to  the  outer  world. 

He  felt  ashamed  and  debased.  And  he  knew 
that  henceforth  he  would  not  mock  those 
who  had  committed  sin. 

Now  he  understood  the  weakness  of  man, 
and  how  plentifully  life  was  strewn  with  dan- 
gers, and  his  lips  muttered  acridly,  "All  of  us 
here  below  are  even  as  criminals  who  are  re- 
leased on  bail,  and  a  net  of  transgression  Is 
spread  over  all  existence." 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST 


JOHANAN  the  High  Priest  was  eighty 
years  of  age.  Sound  in  spirit  and  strong 
in  body  had  he  attained  to  that  ripe  old  age, 
at  one  with  himself  and  his  God.  For  from  his 
earliest  childhood  days  he  had  been  taught  to 
walk  upon  the  Lord's  ways,  nor  did  he  forsake 
them.  He  guarded  himself  against  all  trans- 
gression, and  he  built  around  him  one  wall 
within  another.  To  the  old  commandments 
he  added  new,  and  was  strict  with  himself  in 
fulfilling  them.  His  words  were:  "The  body 
is  nothing,  the  soul  is  all.  The  body  is  dust 
and  clay,  the  soul  is  eternity.  Live  not  for 
your  bodies,  live  for  your  soul  alone.  Heed 
not  what  time  brings  forth;  turn  all  your 
thoughts  and  your  efforts  to  the  everlasting." 

lOl 


102  TEMPTATIONS 

And  as  he  preached,  so  did  he  live.  Word 
and  deed  were  to  him  the  same.  And  although 
he  was  High  Priest, — the  leader  of  his  people 
and  the  wealthiest  and  mightiest  of  his  breth- 
ren,— his  body  knew  nothing  of  the  pleasures 
of  this  world. 

The  inhabitants  of  Jerusalem,  however, 
revered  him  greatly  for  his  steadfast  consist- 
ency. Although  it  was  very  difficult  to  follow 
in  his  footsteps,  and  very  few  did  so,  his  entire 
people  could  not  cease  to  marvel  at  him,  and 
their  admiration  rose  to  reverence  and  venera- 
tion. 

And  because  he  was  so  beloved  and  respected, 
his  eightieth  birthday  became  a  holiday  for  all 
the  city.  Every  house  was  beautifully  be- 
decked, and  all  the  inhabitants  dressed  in  fes- 
tive array;  from  every  corner  of  the  land  men 
and  women  in  holiday  mood  made  pilgrimages 
to  him,  riding  thither  or  coming  on  foot.  And 
there  came  to  him  from  afar  and  near  his 
friends  and  admirers,  with  music  and  song,  ask- 
ing him  to  walk  with  them  through  the  streets 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST   103 

of  Jerusalem.  Let  him  see  how  the  whole 
people  rejoiced  In  his  longevity;  let  him  feel 
how  beloved  he  was.  The  road  was  laid  with 
carpets,  and  little  children  ran  ahead  strewing 
his  path  with  flowers  and  crying,  "Life  ever- 
lasting to  our  master  the  High  Priest!"  All 
the  streets  were  packed  with  festive  crowds, 
men  and  women;  all  the  roofs  were  thronged 
with  denizens  of  Jerusalem;  every  window  was 
besieged,  and  the  city  resounded  with  the  cry, 
"Life  everlasting  to  our  master  the  High 
Priest!"  And  the  fair  daughters  of  ZIon,  with 
graceful  gestures  and  virtuous  blushes,  show- 
ered him  with  flowers  and  wreaths. 

And  as  he  passed  thus  through  the  streets  of 
Jerusalem,  amid  the  jubilation  of  the  people,  he 
heard  behind  him  the  voice  of  a  woman,  saying, 
"How  handsome  Is  the  old  man,  and  how  strong 
he  still  Is !  A  girl  could  fall  In  love  with  him !" 
And  because  his  heart  was  filled  with  pleasure 
and  forbearance,  he  turned  his  face  toward  the 
gossiping  woman,  with  a  fatherly  smile  upon 
his  face.     It  was  a  young  maiden,  as  beautiful 


104  TEMPTATIONS 

as  a  picture,  of  medium  build  and  buxom  pres- 
ence, and  she  received  his  glance  with  eyes  out 
of  which  beamed  the  sun.  It  was  as  if  she  had 
been  waiting  for  him  to  look  upon  her,  reserv- 
ing for  him  her  most  penetrating  glance.  He 
was  abashed  at  her  look,  and  the  genial,  father- 
ly smile  upon  his  lips  faded  into  embarrassment, 
not  knowing  what  to  do  with  itself  and  at  last 
lengthening  to  a  grimace. 

And  as  he  turned  his  head  away  from  her  he 
heard  the  voice  of  a  man,  saying,  "What  has  he 
had,  pray,  of  all  his  long  life,  his  beauty  and 
his  strength?"  The  voice  came  from  the 
vicinity  of  the  beautiful  woman,  and  in  it  echoed 
a  certain  insolence,  as  if  the  speaker  had  meant 
to  strike  him  and  hurt  him  with  the  words. 
And  yet  there  was  deep  pity  in  the  voice.  And 
it  seemed  to  the  aged  High  Priest  as  if  an  arrow 
had  grazed  his  breast.  He  rose  to  his  full 
height,  the  smile  vanished  entirely  from  his 
lips,  his  forehead  became  wrinkled  and  his 
countenance  grew  dark. 

His   assistant,   the   vice   High   Priest,   who 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST   105 

walked  beside  him,  noticed  the  change  that  had 
come  over  the  sage's  face,  and  whispered  to 
him,  angrily,  "That  is  Jason,  the  son  of  Mes- 
hulem,  and  the  woman  at  his  side  is  his  sweet- 
heart, Athaliah." 

Johanan,  however,  affected  not  to  hear  what 
his  subordinate  whispered  to  him.  He  raised 
his  head  proudly  and  walked  with  firmer  tread 
than  before.  His  entire  exterior  bore  the 
answer  to  Jason's  words.  His  countenance 
grew  stern  and  the  look  in  his  eyes  sharp. 
Every  moment  spoke  of  his  strength  and  of  the 
consciousness  that  he  had  nothing  to  regret  in 
his  life.  Jason  understood  this  mute  reply  and 
smiled  back  ironically  yet  sadly,  but  all  the 
people  looked  with  great  veneration  upon  the 
proud,  giant-strong  figure  of  the  High  Priest. 
They  made  way  for  him  with  trembling  in  their 
hearts;  piety  and  reverence  echoed  in  their 
incessant  cries  of  "Life  everlasting  to  our  mas- 
ter, the  High  Priest!" 

His  proud  bearing  did  not  forsake  him  dur- 
ing all  the  time  that  he  walked  through  the 


io6  TEMPTATIONS 

streets,  nor  even  later,  as  he  sat  with  his 
Intimate  friends  at  the  banquet  given  in  his 
honour. 

II 

That  night,  however,  the  High  Priest  could 
not  fall  asleep.  The  small  quantity  of  wine  that 
he  had  permitted  himself  to  drink  at  the  table 
and  the  excitement  kept  sleep  away  from  him. 
A  confusion  of  human  figures  and  dwellings  and 
streets  passed  before  his  eyes;  his  ears  buzzed 
with  the  endless  hum  of  voices  and  instruments. 
But  soon,  from  all  the  figures  emerged  that  of 
Athaliah,  and  he  could  hear  distinctly  what  she 
said  and  what  Jason  replied.  At  first  It  came  to 
him  unawares,  like  a  dim  remembrance,  a  slight 
impression.  At  once,  however,  the  sight  and 
the  voice  grew  clear  to  him,  and  he  became  un- 
easy. He  scowled  angrily,  as  If  trying  to  banish 
form  and  voice,  and  soon  he  began  to  toss  from 
side  to  side.  In  vain!  Athaliah  stood  before 
him,  with  her  eyes  that  beamed  with  the  sun 
transfixing  him  with  her  penetrating  glance.  He 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     107 

experienced  a  sensation  that  had  come  to  his 
body  many  a  time  during  his  life, — one  that  he 
always  feared  as  much  as  deadly  sin,  trying  to 
drive  it  from  him  by  his  strong  will,  long 
prayers  and  severe  fasting. 

His  being  cried  within  him:  he,  he  the  octo- 
genarian! How  does  he  come  to  this?  He 
raged  against  himself  and  thought  of  himself 
with  scorn.  Eighty  years  old  and  a  High 
Priest!  He  directed  his  thoughts  to  God;  his 
lips  began  to  whisper  a  prayer.  Yet  the  great 
crowds  continued  to  pass  before  his  eyes,  and 
from  the  multitude,  clear  and  well-defined, 
there  stood  out  Jason's  sweetheart,  the  wonder- 
fully beautiful  Athaliah.  Impossible  to  drive 
her  from  his  thoughts!     Impossible! 

Suddenly  Jason's  words  caused  his  blood  to 
boil.  A  curse  upon  the  wretch's  mouth ! 
What  had  he  had  of  all  his  long  life,  his  beauty 
and  his  strength  I  He  had  devoted  these  to 
God!  God  had  given  them  to  him  and  he  was 
God's  debtor,  and  he  had  paid  back  God  like 
an  honest  man.     His  life  was  God's,  and  he 


io8  TEMPTATIONS 

lived  for  God.  Whoever  lived  otherwise  was  a 
wicked  man,  a  sinner  against  God,  a  debtor  that 
evades  his  debts. 

These  thoughts  made  him  strong.  It  was  as 
if  his  muscles  had  become  iron  and  his  veins, 
steel. 

But  despite  everything,  Athaliah's  image  did 
not  disappear.  She  stood  before  him  in  all  her 
beauty,  with  her  radiant  eyes,  and  that  glance 
which  penetrated  into  his  bones  and  his  very 
brain.  He  looked  at  her  with  ire  and  scorn; 
he  even  spat  in  disgust.  All  this  was  of  no 
avail  to  banish  the  vision. 

He  lay  calm,  free  of  thoughts,  and  pretend- 
ing to  see  nothing.  His  scorn  of  the  feminine 
form  knew  no  bounds.  Soon,  however,  he  arose 
and  lighted  a  candle.  The  light  must  surely 
banish  the  evil  vision.  Seated  on  the  side  of 
the  bed,  his  bare  feet  resting  on  the  cold  earth, 
he  began  to  murmur  a  prayer.  He  was  angry, 
utterly  broken  in  body  and  soul.  How  came 
this  to  him,  the  aged  man?     Woe,  woe,  he  had 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     109 

not  lived  righteously  after  all.  The  bodily,  the 
fleshly,  the  sinful,  still  ruled  over  him. 

He  arose  and  stretched  himself.  Something 
now  grew  clear  to  him.  As  long  as  the  soul 
dwells  in  the  body,  it  must  wage  strife  against 
the  body.  Thus  was  God's  will.  And  he 
would  give  battle!  His  will  was  strong.  He 
even  stamped  his  foot.  Yes,  his  will  was 
strong! 

And  on  that  night  he  did  not  return  to  his 
bed.  He  unrolled  the  Torah  in  the  light  of 
the  candle  and  sat  down  to  study.  He  knew 
that  the  form  of  the  beautiful  woman  had  not 
yet  vanished.  He  needed  but  to  close  his  eyes 
and  he  could  see  her.  He  needed  but  to  turn  his 
head  away  from  the  sacred  scroll  and  he  would 
behold  her,  feel  her  presence  distinctly.  But  he 
was  calm.  He  knew  that  he  would  conquer  in 
the  struggle  with  the  vision,  which  came  from 
the  Evil  One.  She  would  disappear.  And  his 
voice,  as  it  intoned  the  holy  passages,  was  touch- 
ing. 


no  TEMPTATIONS 

III 

The  following  morning  he  went  into  the 
wilderness,  into  the  desert  of  Judea.  He 
said  that  he  desired  to  be  all  alone  after 
the  excitement  of  the  previous  day;  far  from 
human  beings  and  his  own  affairs  he  wished  to 
take  account  of  his  deeds:  it  was  already  high 
time  he  did  so,  for  he  was  very  old.  He  went 
into  the  desert,  however,  in  reality  to  fast  and 
to  torture  his  body  in  combat  against  a  desire 
that  comes  from  Satan.  He  went  barefoot  over 
the  burning  sand,  on  jagged  rocks  and  through 
thorns,  under  the  scorching  rays  of  a  July  sun, 
without  food  or  drink,  granting  himself  no  rest. 
Yet  the  beautiful  Athaliah  hovered  still  before 
him  and  behind.  Many  a  time  he  cast  himself 
to  earth,  groaning  frightfully.  Not  from 
fatigue,  not  from  hunger  or  thirst,  however,  but 
from  despair.  Why  did  she  not  disappear? 
He  beat  his  heart  and  tore  at  his  breasts. 
"Lord  God,  why  drivest  Thou  not  from  me  this 
visitation  from  Satan!" 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     in 

But  he  little  knew  what  was  still  In  store  for 
him.  When,  that  evening,  after  a  meal  of  figs 
and  water,  he  lay  down  upon  hard  stones, 
in  a  rocky  hollow,  tired,  despairing,  wracked 
by  a  burning  desire  for  the  beautiful  Athaliah, 
a  terrible  thought  assailed  him.  It  came  al- 
together unexpectedly,  like  an  enemy  from  be- 
hind concealment. 

What  had  he  had  of  all  his  years,  his  beauty 
and  his  strength? 

These  were  Jason's  words,  but  the  High 
Priest  no  longer  knew  it.  The  thought  came 
to  him  so  overwhelmingly  that  he  groaned  and 
commenced  to  tremble,  as  if  he  were  exposed 
upon  the  snow-capped  summit  of  Mount 
Lebanon. 

He  no  longer  remembered  what  he  had 
thought  the  previous  night  upon  his  bed, — what 
had  then  made  him  so  strong.  One  thought 
alone  kept  gnawicig  at  him  incessantly:  "What 
have  I  had  of  all  my  life,  of  my  beauty  and  my 
strength?"     He   even  cried  to   God:    "Lord, 


112  TEMPTATIONS 

what  have  I  had  of  all  my  life,  of  my  beauty 
and  my  strength?" 

Under  the  stress  of  unfulfilled  passion  his  en- 
tire life  seemed  to  him  now  like  a  desert.  Harsh 
and  ascetic,  thorns  and  stones.  Nothing  but 
debts  and  debts  paid.  The  body  had  been 
nothing;  the  soul  all.  The  soul!  Who  was  it 
crying  so  within  him  now?  Who  was  longing 
within  him  now?     Was  it  the  soul  or  the  body? 

His  head  sank  back  and  he  lay  weary  and 
hopeless.  All  at  once  he  started  up.  With 
frightened  eyes  he  gazed  before  him  and  delved 
into  his  soul :  How  did  he  know  that  the  truth 
had  been  with  him, — that  his  life  had  been  the 
true  life  ordained  by  God? 

He  stretched  himself  out  upon  his  stomach, 
his  chin  propped  on  his  hands,  his  eyes  staring 
into  the  desolate  night,  burrowing,  burrowing 
into  his  soul.  Somewhere  in  the  distance 
jackals  were  howling;  a  lion  of  the  desert  bel- 
lowed with  hunger.  Johanan  heard  nothing. 
He  was  cold,  and  his  heart  and  soul  were  rent 
asunder  by  bloody  claws.     The  entire  people 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     113 

lived  altogether  differently  from  him.  Were 
they  all  wicked  sinners,  and  was  he  alone  the 
righteous  man?  But  there  was  no  righteous 
man  upon  earth  who  had  never  sinned.  What 
was  sin?  They  had  often  ridiculed  his  severity, 
crying  out  against  it.  Had  he  really  been  too 
severe?     Where  was  the  proper  boundary? 

He  looked  up  to  the  sky.  He  half  expected 
that  the  heavens  would  now  open  and  that  he 
would  behold  God  and  hear  Him.  Then  he 
would  know  the  whole  truth.  God  would  re- 
veal to  him  everything.  To  him  alone.  He 
did  not  remove  his  eyes  from  heaven,  and  a 
yearning  enfolded  him.  He  longed  to  see  God, 
to  hear  Him.  He  was  eighty  years  old,  and 
for  the  greater  part  of  his  life  had  been  a  High 
Priest,  yet  God  had  never  revealed  Himself 
to  him  either  in  reality  or  in  a  dream.  What 
he  knew,  he  knew  from  others,  those  who  had 
come  before  him.  From  Moses  and  the 
Prophets.  And,  too,  from  himself  alone, — 
from  what  his  heart  had  told  him.  But  now 
he  wanted  to  hear  it  from  God's  own  lips.  Had 


1 14  TEMPTATIONS 

he,  then,  not  earned  it?  But  hour  after  hour 
went  by,  yet  the  heavens  parted  not,  nor  did 
God  reveal  Himself.  The  stars  twinkled  peace- 
fully in  the  high  heavens  and  from  afar  came 
the  howling  of  the  jackals  and  the  roaring  of 
a  lion. 

He  cast  his  face  upon  his  arm  and  burst  into 
tears.  Like  a  petulant  child;  and  like  a  child, 
too,  he  fell  asleep  in  his  tears. 

His  slumber  was  restless  and  short.  Queer 
dreams  wove  and  interwove  themselves  in  his 
mind,  and  on  waking  he  could  not  recall  them. 
And  he  knew  that  not  even  in  his  dreams  had 
God  revealed  Himself.  His  heart  became  very 
heavy,  and  he  accompanied  his  morning  pray- 
ers with  deep  sobs.  Athaliah's  figure  was  as  if 
veiled  by  a  cloud;  that  which  had  driven  him 
into  the  desert  had  disappeared  and  been  for- 
gotten. Now  he  had  one  great  yearning:  to 
experience  a  moment  of  revelation, — to  hear 
God's  voice,  God's  word.  With  sighs  and 
tears  he  proceeded  further  into  the  desert,  to 
torture  his  body  with  prayer  and  fasting.     He 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     115 

strode  along  In  expectancy,  his  eyes  directed  to 
heaven,  his  ears  wide  open.  Often  he  would 
stop  short  with  bated  breath,  for  It  seemed  to 
him  that  already  he  saw  or  heard  something. 
Each  time,  however,  after  a  brief  waiting,  he 
would  continue  on  his  way  with  a  deep  groan. 

His  prayers  did  not  cease.  "From  the  depths 
of  my  heart  I  call  out  to  Thee,  Oh  God.  Lord, 
hear  my  entreaty,  and  bend  Thine  ear  to  the 
voice  of  my  supplications."  And  he  discoursed 
learnedly  with  God.  He  believed  In  Moses  and 
the  Prophets.  He  knew  for  a  surety  that  God 
had  discovered  Himself  to  them  and  had  spok- 
en to  them.  But  If  He  spoke  to  these  others 
and  revealed  his  will,  then  why  not  to  himf  If 
he  was  unworthy  of  this  grace,  he  wished  to 
know  why.  If  none  might  look  upon  God  and 
remain  thereafter  alive,  he  did  not  care.  He 
was  ready  to  die.  With  all  his  heart  he  desired 
such  a  death.  Almighty  God,  this  very  mo- 
ment. 

He  stopped  and  waited.  Sadly  he  then  con- 
tinued on  his  way.     At  last  he  began  to  call. 


ii6  TEMPTATIONS 

"God,  if  Thou  Thyself  desirest  not  to  reveal 
Thyself  unto  me,  then  send  me  Thy  messen- 
ger!" 

But  day  after  day  passed  by.  He  travelled 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  desert;  his  body 
became  cadaverous,  his  face  sunken,  and  his 
weary,  extinguished  eyes  sat  in  deep  sockets. — 
Then  he  turned  back  to  the  city,  which  was 
much  agitated  by  his  disappearance,  and  where 
he  was  received  with  cries  of  fright  and  wring- 
ing of  hands  because  of  his  wretched  appear- 
ance. With  still  greater  fright  did  they  leave 
him,  for  he  refused  to  reply  to  all  questions; 
his  mouth  was  sealed,  his  look  severe  and  dis- 
tant. His  wife  and  children,  and  all  his  friends 
in  the  city  went  about  distracted  and  in  de- 
spair, for  they  could  not  tell  what  was  the 
trouble  with  the  aged  High  Priest.  The  only 
words  he  vouchsafed  were  addressed  to  the 
guardian  of  the  keys,  from  whom  he  took  the 
key  to  the  Temple,  admonishing  him  to  permit 
none  to  follow  the  High  Priest.     The  entire 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     117 

city  was  plunged  Into  deeper  consternation  than 
ever. 

IV 

Only  once  per  year — on  the  Day  of  Atone- 
ment— was  the  High  Priest  permitted  to  enter 
the  Holy  of  Holies,  the  most  sacred  room  of 
God's  house.  Only  this  once,  without  being 
punished  on  the  spot  by  a  bolt  from  the  Al- 
mighty. Yet  it  was  to  the  Holy  of  Holies  that 
Johanan  now  directed  his  steps.  He  desired  to 
see  God,  and  death  held  no  terrors  for  him. 
His  heart  was  embittered,  his  spirit  downcast. 
He  was  not  of  God's  chosen  few.  What  mat- 
tered to  him  a  continuance  of  life  in  unworthi- 
ness? 

He  prepared  himself  with  ablutions  and  per- 
formance of  sacrifice,  and  clothed  himself  in 
white.  Before  the  entrance  to  the  Holy  of 
Holies  he  paused  for  a  moment.  In  fear,  but 
also  in  expectation :  perhaps  God  would  yet 
send  him  a  token.  It  was  everywhere  so  still, 
and  the  semi-darkness  of  the  room  in  which 
he  stood  was  as  though  peopled  with  spirits. 


ii8  TEMPTATIONS 

He  looked  in  horror  about  him  and  his  heart 
beat  wildly.  He  did  not  retreat,  however,  nor 
did  he  desist  from  his  firm  purpose.  With  un- 
bending will,  yet  with  trembling  hand,  he 
opened  the  heavy  door  to  the  Holy  of  Holies, 
and  dashed,  rather  than  walked,  into  it.  His 
eyes  were  as  if  dazzled,  his  legs  sagged  beneath 
him,  his  heart  was  almost  rent.  He  leaned 
against  the  wall  to  keep  from  falling.  He 
neither  saw  nor  heard  anything.  He  stood 
rooted  in  great  terror. 

Gradually  he  recovered  his  composure.  How 
long  had  he  been  there?  And  he  was  still 
alive?  His  eyes  opened  wide  with  astonish- 
ment; he  tore  himself  away  from  the  wall  and 
surveyed  his  surroundings.  All  was  silent  and 
calm  in  the  dark  solitude  of  the  room.  The 
Satijah  stone,  the  Rock  of  the  World,  which 
stood  there  in  place  of  the  vanished  Holy  Ark, 
he  felt  rather  than  saw.  Silence.  A  vast  si- 
lence. He  rolled  his  eyes  about,  listening  in- 
tently. Nothing.  Four  bare  walls,  the  Satijah 
Stone  and  he  alone.     And  nothing  else.     He 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     119 

cried  aloud  with  amazement.  And  his  present 
stupefaction  was  even  greater  than  his  previous 
terror.  He  straightened  himself  out,  proud 
and  arrogant.  His  countenance  grew  stern 
and  ireful.  He  began,  from  force  of  habit,  to 
go  out  with  his  back  to  the  entrance  and  with 
his  face  to  the  Ark,  but  at  once  he  wheeled 
about  and  with  firm  steps  left  the  Holy  of 
Holies  and  the  Temple. 

He  went  to  Athaliah,  the  beloved  of  Jason, 
son  of  Meshulem. 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise  and  fright. 
The  High  Priest  in  her  home ! 

"I  have  come  for  your  love,"  he  said. 

She  screamed  and  recoiled  from  him  with 
hand  upraised  to  defend  herself. 

"I  am  handsome  and  strong  and  capable  of 
inspiring  a  woman's  passion.  You  yourself 
said  so,  and  I  have  come  for  your  love." 

She  tried  to  flee  but  firmly  he  barred  her  way. 

"I  have  had  nothing  of  all  my  life.  Nothing 
of  my  beauty  and  strength.  Your  own  Jason 
said  so.     Now  I  desire  to  enjoy  what  I  have 


120  TEMPTATIONS 

missed  as  long  as  strength  and  beauty  remain 
with  me." 

She  wished  to  make  an  outcry,  but  her  throat 
was  as  if  tightened  with  fetters. 

He  embraced  her  with  a  powerful  arm  and 
she  turned  and  writhed  as  though  a  snake  were 
coihng  about  her. 

And  he  spoke : 

*'I  have  come  for  your  love.  Are  you  afraid 
of  me?  Do  I  arouse  your  aversion?  Am  I 
too  old  for  you?  My  white  hair  recalls  the 
snowy  cold  of  death.  But  I  still  live  and  am 
strong  and  passionate,  and  I  have  come  for 
your  love." 

Athaliah,  ghastly  pale,  squirmed  in  his  arms 
and  gasped,  in  fright  and  loathing.  "Let  me 
gol    Let  me  go!" 

But  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  with  his  keen 
eyes  seemed  to  devour  her  beauty. 

"I'll  have  your  love.  You  shall  have  to  be- 
long to  me.  If  not  willingly,  then  by  force.  I 
am  all-powerful;  you  know  that.  Your  life  is 
in  my  hands,  and  the  life  of  your  sweetheart, 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     121 

and  the  life  of  all  those  near  and  dear  to  you." 
Athaliah   now    regained    her    voice.      "No! 
No!"    she    shrieked.      "Kill    me!      Slay    me 
alone!" 

"You  shall  belong  to  me.  I  do  not  wish  your 
death.  I  desire  you  in  your  living  beauty.  1 
am  very  wealthy, — the  richest  of  all  our  peo- 
ple. I  will  clothe  you  in  gold  and  silver,  and 
bedeck  you  with  precious  stones.  Ask  what  you 
wish  and  it  shall  be  granted.  Why  do  you 
fear  me  so?  I  am  old  in  years,  but  strong  in 
body,  and  I  wish  to  enjoy  that  strength.  Be 
mine  and  you  shall  never  regret  it." 

His  words,  which  echoed  with  gold,  and  his 
arm,  which  spoke  of  great  masculine  strength, 
changed  Athaliah's  mind.  She  became  the  mis- 
tress of  the  High  Priest,  but  for  a  few  days 
only.  For  a  savage  fury  befell  the  High  Priest; 
he  desired  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the  senses 
more  and  more,  and  he  changed  his  mistresses 
every  day,  intoxicated  with  lust  and  wine. 
Then,  to  the  great  horror  of  his  people,  he  also 
took  to  drinking. 


122  TEMPTATIONS 

His  wife,  his  children,  and  all  those  who 
were  truly  pious  and  decent,  together  with  all 
to  whom  the  honour  of  their  people  was  very 
dear,  tried  with  despair  in  their  hearts  to  turn 
him  from  the  terrible  life  he  had  begun  to  lead. 
They  also  tried  to  learn  how  all  this  had  so 
suddenly  come  to  him, — how  he  could  so  com- 
pletely have  forgotten  God.  But  he  did  not 
speak  to  them;  he  was  as  one  dumb.  And  it 
seemed  that  no  invocation  of  God  or  the  Torah 
could  touch  his  heart  or  his  ear. 

And  many  who  were  not  decent,  and  to  whom 
the  honour  of  their  people  was  worth  less  than 
the  smallest  coin  that  fell  into  their  purses,  be- 
came his  flatterers  and  pandered  to  his  desires. 
For  he  was  prodigal  with  his  gold,  and  that 
was  all  they  desired  of  him;  the  deeper  he  sank 
into  lust  and  dissipation,  the  more  gold  came 
into  their  clutches. 

Soon,  however,  his  eighty  years  began  to 
tell.  He  grew  weak  and  impotent,  but  he  could 
still  guzzle  and  he  became  a  disgust  and  a 
fright. 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     123 

The  people  felt  that  they  must  be  freed  of 
him,  and  his  death  was  decided  upon.  They 
remembered,  however,  what  he  had  been  for 
eighty  years  and  none  cared  to  lay  hands  upon 
him.  It  was  resolved  that  his  death  should  be 
an  honourable  one,  happening  as  if  by  accident. 
And  once,  on  an  evening  in  which  he  had  drunk 
more  than  usual,  he  was  abducted  from  his 
sycophants,  taken  into  the  mountains  and  left 
lying  upon  the  brink  of  a  precipice  over  a  deep 
sea.  No  one's  hand  was  lifted  to  thrust  him 
over  the  edge,  and  with  tears  In  their  eyes  and 
sad  shakings  of  their  heads  they  abandoned  him 
to  his  fate. 

He  lay  motionless,  sunk  In  a  deep  sleep.  But 
the  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun  awakened  him. 
He  stretched  out  his  arms  as  If  to  reach  for 
the  wine  that  stood  now  always  before  him. 
He  grasped  only  the  air.  He  groped  and 
groped  about  and  at  last  opened  his  eyes.  He 
opened  them  wider  and  wider,  distending  them 
more  and  more.  Where  was  he?  He  looked 
around,  to  this  side  and  to  that,  above  and  be- 


124  TEMPTATIONS 

low.  He  saw  the  abyss.  Slowly  and  gradually 
It  dawned  upon  him  that  he  lay  upon  the  brink 
of  a  high  precipice.  How  had  he  come  hither? 
Who  had  brought  him?  Slowly  and  leisurely 
he  looked  over  the  edge.  If  he  should  fall 
in.  .  .  .  Then  he  understood.  This  was  his 
death-sentence.  He  had  been  condemned  to 
death  and  the  hands  of  his  judges  were  to 
remain  clean.  His  blood  boiled.  He  wished 
to  arise  at  once,  but  he  was  not  strong  enough. 
He  rolled  his  head  about,  thumped  the  earth 
with  his  fists,  gnashed  his  teeth.  Weary  and 
utterly  exhausted,  he  remained  lying  there  and 
somewhat  later  began  to  gaze  around  him. 
Where  on  earth  was  he? 

He  beheld  before  him  a  large  sea  girded  by 
green  mountains.  It  looked  like  a  huge  caul- 
dron, over  which  arose  the  queen  of  day,  pure, 
youthful  and  flaming.  From  the  mountain  for- 
ests far  and  near  there  wafted  up  to  her  a  thin 
blue  mist.  The  earth  was  uncovering  itself 
before  the  sun,  receiving  its  beams  with  delight, 
shouting  to  her  in  radiant  green.     Quite  near 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     125 

to  him  there  sparkled  dazzlingly  the  snow- 
capped peak  of  Mount  Lebanon,  mischievously 
reflecting  with  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow 
its  lance-like  rays  of  the  sun.  And  the  calm, 
deep  sea  received  into  its  bosom  all  the  light 
of  heaven  and  earth  and  redoubled  their  splen- 
dour. 

Johanan  lay  and  gazed  without  taking  Into 
account  what  he  saw,  but  he  was  Inundated 
with  the  surrounding  splendour.  And  suddenly 
his  lips  began  to  murmur,  "Bless  the  Lord,  O 
my  soul.  O  Lord,  my  God,  Thou  art  very 
great;  thou  art  clothed  with  honour  and  maj- 
esty. Who  coverest  Thyself  with  light  as  with 
a  garment;  who  stretchest  out  the  heavens  like  a 


curtain." 


Thus  he  murmured  and  his  spirit  was  not 
with  him.  He  did  not  know  what  issued  from 
his  lips.  He  repeated  It  several  times.  Always 
the  same  passages.  "Bless  the  Lord,  O  my 
soul.  O  Lord,  my  God,  Thou  art  very  great; 
Thou     art    clothed    with     honour     and    maj- 


126  TEMPTATIONS 

esty.  .  .  ."  And  his  heart  became  softer  and 
softer. 

Then  he  suddenly  became  aware  of  what  he 
was  saying  and  was  startled.  God's  name  upon 
his  lips!  He,  full  of  God, — of  God,  against 
whom  he  had  spoken,  against  whom  he  had  re- 
belled so  arrogantly!  He  burst  into  tears. 
Ever  so  softly,  without  the  slightest  sound,  but 
his  heart  was  torn,  rent  asunder.  He  was 
weeping  over  the  last  few  weeks,  over  the 
wretched  life  he  had  been  leading,  and  his  sub- 
dued crying  was  filled  with  deep  lamentation, 
filled  with  regret  and  repentance,  yet  his  eyes 
did  not  turn  from  the  great  beauty  and  glory 
around  him.  It  seemed  to  him  that  now,  for 
the  first  time,  he  grasped  that  which  all  his  life 
he  had  not  known.  He  who  creates  such  a 
wealth  of  beauty  and  splendour  cannot  be 
merely  austere  and  harsh.  And  in  his  dejection 
he  was  consoled  by  the  hope  that  God  was 
good,  merciful  and  loving. 

He  tried  to  arise,  return  to  his  people  and 
tell  them  what  he  had  there  discovered,  but  his 


JOHANAN  THE  HIGH  PRIEST     127 

strength  abandoned  him.  Then  he  knew  that 
his  end  had  come.  He  was  terrified.  God! 
Anything  but  to  be  left  lying  there  in  the  ugli- 
ness of  death!  But  soon  he  composed  himself. 
He  began  to  murmur  a  prayer,  opening  his 
eyes  wide  in  contemplation  of  God's  beautiful 
world.  And  when  he  felt  that  his  eyes  were 
growing  heavy,  he  made  only  a  single  move- 
ment— and  he  fell  like  lead  into  the  deep 
waters. 


ZERUBBABEL 


ZERUBBABEL 

I 

IT  came  to  pass  In  the  days  of  Ahasuerus, — 
that  Ahasuerus  who  reigned  from  India 
even  to  Ethiopia,  over  a  hundred  and  seven  and 
twenty  provinces.  In  the  third  year  of  his  reign 
he  waxed  wroth  against  Vashti  his  wife,  be- 
cause she  had  once  refused  to  do  his  bidding, 
and  banished  her  from  him.  And  after  his 
wrath  was  appeased  he  regretted  exceedingly 
what  he  had  done  and  his  heart  was  filled  with 
yearning  for  Vashti.  And  his  servants  said, 
"Let  there  be  fair  young  virgins  sought  for  the 
king  throughout  all  his  provinces.  And  let  the 
maiden  who  pleases  the  king  be  queen  Instead 
of  Vashti."  And  the  plan  pleased  the  king  and 
he  had  it  executed. 

A  Jewish  youth  dwelt  in  the  city  of  Shushan, 

131 


132  TExMPTATIONS 

and  his  name  was  Zerubbabel,  son  of  Sheal- 
tiel.  He  was  descended  from  the  royal  house 
of  David, — a  grandchild  of  the  last  of  the 
Jewish  kings, — and  royal  was  his  mien.  He 
was  tall  in  build  and  broad-shouldered;  in  his 
deep  black  eyes  shone  the  glance  of  a  ruler, 
and  the  long  black  hair  that  flowed  over  his 
neck  bore  witness  to  his  strength.  Whoever 
saw  him  grew  fond  of  him  and  was  inspired 
with  respect,  and  the  Jews  were  proud  of  him. 
He  recalled  to  them  their  independence,  lost 
but  a  short  time  since,  and  awoke  in  them 
thoughts  of  a  better,  an  independent  future. 
And  there  was  a  young  Jewish  maiden  in  Shu- 
shan,  and  she  was  called  Sheshana,  and  more 
than  aught  else  Zerubbabel  loved  her.  She 
was  his  comfort  and  his  joy, — his  solace  in  dark 
moments  and  his  rest  after  hard  labour.  Small 
she  was,  and  tender,  with  white  face  and  black 
tresses.  Her  whole  soul  was  revealed  in  the 
dark  eyes  under  the  black  silken  strands  of  her 
lashes;  a  soul  that  was  loveliness  itself.  Her 
laughter  was  clear  and  sparkling,  and  caressed 


ZERUBBABEL  133 

the  ears  of  her  hearers,  like  silks  from  Damas- 
cus. Her  mouth  was  ever  open  with  laughter, 
and  through  her  half-parted  lips  there  glistened 
wonderfully  white  small  teeth. 

And  it  happened  that  when  Ahasuerus  com- 
manded to  appear  before  him  all  the  fair 
daughters  of  his  subjects,  so  that  he  might 
choose  a  wife  from  among  them  to  replace 
Vashti,  Zerubbabel  knew  that  Sheshana  would 
be  the  chosen  one.  So  he  concealed  her  in  a 
place  where  the  king's  servants  would  not  be 
able  to  discover  her,  and  did  not  leave  her  side, 
like  a  lion  ready  to  pounce  upon  any  one  who 
should  stretch  out  his  hand  to  her. 

But  first  he  said:  "You  are  beautiful,  She- 
shana, and  there  is  none  under  the  sun  to  equal 
you.  You  are  the  fairest  of  all  Judea's  daugh- 
ters and  in  vain  will  they  seek  among  other 
tribes  for  another  like  you.  A  glance  from  you 
is  the  sweetest  of  sensations,  and  a  kiss  from 
your  lips  is  eternity.  Your  body  is  like  the 
breath  of  a  sweet  flower;  happy  and  blessed  is 
he  who  may  enjoy  it.     Can  it  be,  Sheshana — 


134  TEMPTATIONS 

tell  me — that  you  wish  to  be  taken  before  the 
king?  And  it  will  come  about  that  when  Ahas- 
uerus  beholds  you,  he  will  sink  to  his  knees  be- 
fore you,  as  if  the  goddess  Astaroth  had  ap- 
peared before  him  in  her  fairest  form.  And 
you  win  become  the  wife  of  the  king, — reign- 
ing as  queen  from  India  even  to  Ethiopia,  over 
a  hundred  and  seven  and  twenty  provinces. 
Great  and  powerful  will  you  become, — arbiter 
over  the  life  and  death  of  all  the  king's  sub- 
jects, and  all  will  tremble  before  you.  Tell  me, 
Sheshana,  and  I  will  free  you  at  once.  I  my- 
self will  open  the  door  for  you.   .  .  ." 

But  she  did  not  allow  him  to  finish,  and  lay 
her  small  white  hand  across  his  mouth.  She 
snuggled  close  to  him  with  her  tender,  flower- 
like  body  and  rested  her  head  upon  his  strong 
bosom;  her  voice  became  frightened  and  tear- 
ful. 

"Why  do  you  scare  your  Sheshana,  you 
wicked  Zerubbabel?  Picture  me  death  and 
annihilation,  speak  to  me  of  slavery  and 
heavy  chains;  tell  me  that  I  shall  grow  ugly. 


ZERUBBABEL  135 

with  the  face  of  a  leper,  and  you  will  not 
frighten  your  Sheshana  so  much  as  with  your 
tallc  of  the  king  and  his  kingdom.  How  could 
you  have  spoken  so?  Tell  me,  how  have  I 
sinned  to  deserve  it?  Do  you  not  yet  know, 
then,  how  strong  is  my  love  for  you?  Tell  me 
how  to  give  you  further  proof  of  It  and  I  will 
do  so.  Love  speaks  In  various  languages;  have 
I  not  spoken  to  you  in  all  of  them?  Have  I 
not  cooed  to  you  like  a  dove,  and  have  I  not 
cried  with  passion's  fiery  tongues?  Have  I  not 
laughed  in  your  embraces  with  my  clearest 
laughter,  and  have  I  not  wept  for  ecstasy  in  the 
sweetness  of  my  love?  You  wicked  Zerub- 
babel,  my  only  one !  My  love  is  now  like  a 
stricken  dove;  it  has  lowered  its  wings  and  cast 
down  its  weary  head  in  deep  mourning,  and  it 
is  you  who  have  wounded  it!" 

She  pressed  Zerubbabel  tightly  to  her,  and 
his  heart  shouted  with  delight.  He  did  not  in- 
terrupt her  speech,  and  every  word  from  her 
deep-red  lips  rendered  his  breathing  more  diffi- 
cult.     He    was    unable   to    speak;    his    breast 


136  TEMPTATIONS 

heaved;  he  drank  In  her  love  with  his  glowing 
eyes  which  were  like  an  ocean  that  cannot  be 
filled. 

And  Sheshana  threw  around  his  neck  her 
bare  white  arms  and  whispered  to  him;  her 
voice  was  like  the  voice  of  a  distant  violin. 

"You  are  my  king,  and  my  kingdom  Is  your 
love.  It  Is  greater  and  wealthier  than  that  of 
Ahasuerus.  The  sun  never  sets  upon  my  king- 
dom, and  my  rulership  over  it  is  unlimited. 
Your  powerful  bosom  is  my  firm  land,  and  upon 
it  I  build  my  most  glorious  palaces.  Your  eyes 
are  my  seas ;  I  sink  into  them  even  as  the  sink- 
ing sun,  and  like  the  rising  sun  I  look  out  from 
them,  and  my  world  is  bathed  In  splendour  and 
in  light.  Your  mighty  arms  are  my  armies,  and 
I  am  secure  beneath  their  protection.  I  desire 
no  other  kingdom,  and  the  whole  world  with- 
out you  would  be  too  small  and  too  forlorn. 
My  beloved,  my  only  one,  my  fortress  and  my 
sun,  protect  your  Sheshana,  guard  well  your 
queen  1" 

More  tightly  than  ever  she  pressed  Zerub- 


ZERUBBABEL  137 

babel  to  her,  and  his  voice  quivered  with  agita- 
tion, and  yet  it  spoke  of  his  great  strength. 

"Zerubbabel  is  with  you,  and  woe  unto  him 
that  dares  stretch  out  his  arm  toward  you,  even 
though  it  be  the  king  himself.  But  speak  to 
me,  Sheshana,  speak  to  me,  my  glorious  maiden. 
Open  up  Paradise  to  me  with  your  words,  and 
I  become  the  god  who  dwells  therein.  Coo  to 
me,  my  little  dove,  and  ^11  my  heart  with 
blessedness." 

And  Sheshana  laughed  with  her  clearest 
laughter,  whispering  then,  "Small  is  Sheshana, 
but  great  is  her  love,  boundless  as  the  sea.  But 
Sheshana  asks  for  reward,  and  she  languishes 
for  a  kiss !" 

Zerubbabel  clasped  her  to  him  with  fiery  pas- 
sion; more  fiery  still  was  his  kiss.  For  a  long 
time  he  did  not  remove  his  lips  from  her  own, 
and  it  was  as  if  in  that  kiss  he  lived  out  his 
entire  life.  Again  and  again  they  united  in 
their  kisses,  and  Sheshana  laughed  with  her 
clearest  laughter.  All  at  once  she  threw  back 
her  head  and  raised  to  his  eyes  her  enchanting 


138  TEMPTATIONS 

glance;  playful  and  infinitely  sweet  was  her 
voice.  "And  what  would  Zerubbabel  do  if 
Sheshana  were  to  go  off  to  King  Ahasuerus?" 

Zerubbabel  felt  a  tremor  in  all  his  limbs,  and 
he  closed  his  eyes.  Soon  he  opened  them  and 
his  glance  had  become  sinister.  He  embraced 
her  firmly,  as  if  to  shield  her  so  that  none  might 
take  her  away;  his  voice  was  hard.  "I  know 
a  huge  cliff,  high  above  a  deep  abyss.  Upon 
that  cliff  would  Zerubbabel  climb,  and  up  there 
would  he  cry  out  his  infinite  grief.  And  the 
rock  would  crumble  to  dust  from  his  cries  and 
would  disappear  Into  the  abyss  with  Zerub- 
babel." 

Now  Sheshana  felt  a  tremor  in  all  her 
limbs;  her  countenance  blanched  and  her  lips 
could  scarcely  move.  "Forgive  me,  dear,  for 
having  spoken  thus."  And  Zerubbabel  clasped 
her  to  him  with  all  the  strength  of  his  passion; 
his  eyes  burned;  he  pressed  his  fiery  kiss  upon 
her  lips.  "You  are  mine,  mine  alone,  for  all 
eternity!" 


ZERUBBABEL  139 

II 

According  to  the  tale,  King  Ahasuerus  select- 
ed as  his  wife  Esther,  the  cousin  and  foster- 
daughter  of  Mordecai,  the  son  of  Jair.  And 
Haman,  the  son  of  Hammedatha  the  Aggagite, 
became  the  favourite  of  King  Ahasuerus,  who 
set  his  seat  above  all  the  princes  that  were  with 
him.  And  all  the  king's  servants  that  were  in 
the  king's  gate  bowed  and  reverenced  Haman. 
Except  Mordecai.  This  angered  the  son  of 
Hammedatha,  and  his  heart  was  filled  with 
wrath.  But  he  scorned  to  wreak  vengeance  on 
Mordecai  alone.  His  rage  was  like  a  sea  that 
overflows  its  shores;  in  this  sea  he  desired 
to  drown  and  destroy  the  entire  Jewish  people. 
Then  he  came  before  the  king  and  asked  of  him 
permission  to  annihilate  the  Jews.  He  offered 
ten  thousand  talents  of  silver  and  spoke  plain 
words. 

"There  is  a  certain  people  scattered  abroad 
and  dispersed  among  the  people  in  all  the 
provinces  of  your  kingdom.     And  their  laws 


140  TEMPTATIONS 

are  diverse  from  all  people;  neither  keep  they 
the  king's  laws:  therefore  it  is  not  for  the 
king's  profit  to  suffer  them."  This  was  poison 
in  the  king's  ears, — poison  in  his  heart,  and  he 
even  renounced  the  money.  He  took  his  ring 
from  his  hand  and  gave  it  to  the  Aggagite  to 
do  with  the  Jews  as  his  heart  desired.  Where- 
upon Haman  issued  a  decree  in  the  name  of  the 
king,  sealed  with  the  king's  ring,  to  all  the 
hundred  and  seven  and  twenty  provinces  of 
King  Ahasuerus,  to  destroy,  to  kill  and  cause  to 
perish  all  Jews,  both  young  and  old,  little  chil- 
dren and  women,  in  one  day,  upon  the  thirteenth 
of  the  twelfth  month,  which  is  the  month  Adar. 
The  Jews  learned  of  all  that  had  been 
planned  and  a  great  terror  descended  upon 
them;  their  fright  knew  no  bounds.  They 
raised  a  loud  and  bitter  cry,  rent  the  clothes 
upon  them  and  put  on  sackcloth  with  ashes. 
They  sought  counsel  but  found  it  not.  Who 
would  save  them  from  certain  death?  Where 
should  they  turn  and  whither  should  they  go? 
Where  could  they  hide  and  whither  might  they 


ZERUBBABEL  141 

flee?  In  their  great  terror  and  in  their  great 
misfortune  they  raised  their  eyes  to  Queen 
Esther.  Esther  must  help  them, — Esther,  the 
Jewish  daughter  upon  the  royal  throne.  And 
Mordecai,  her  cousin,  turned  to  her,  asking  that 
she  go  to  the  king  and  make  supplication  to  him 
for  her  people.  Esther  could  not  make  up  her 
mind,  because  whosoever  came  unbidden  before 
the  king  was  put  at  once  to  death,  and  she  had 
not  been  summoned  to  him  for  thirty  days. 

Mordecai  sent  sharp  words  to  her. 

"Think  not  that  you  of  all  the  Jews  will  es- 
cape because  you  are  in  the  king's  house.  For 
if  you  altogether  hold  your  peace,  then  shall 
help  and  deliverance  come  to  the  Jews  from  an- 
other place;  but  you  and  your  father's  house 
shall  be  destroyed;  and  who  knows  but  that  you 
ascended  to  royal  power  for  just  such  a  time  as 
this?" 

Then  Esther  bade  them  return  Mordecai  this 
answer: 

"Go,  gather  together  all  the  Jews  that  are 
present  in  Shushan,  and  fast  for  me,  and  neither 


142  TEMPTATIONS 

eat  nor  drink  three  days,  night  or  day;  I  also 
and  my  maidens  will  fast  likewise;  and  then 
will  I  go  in  to  the  king,  despite  the  law.  And 
if  I  perish,  I  perish."  Mordecai  went  his  way 
and  did  according  to  all  that  Esther  had  com- 
manded him.  The  Jews  assembled  in  their 
meeting-house  in  Shushan,  weeping,  fasting, 
wailing  and  hoping  in  Esther.  And  when  any 
one  opened  the  door  and  came  in,  he  was 
greeted  with  tear-stifled  voices :  "What  says 
Esther?  What  does  Esther?  What  news  of 
Esther?" 

Ill 

But  Zerubbabel,  when  he  learned  of  Haman's 
decree,  neither  rent  his  garments  nor  covered 
his  head  with  ashes.  His  locks  spread  even 
more  spiritedly  over  his  neck  and  his  eyes 
blazed  with  a  wild  wrath.  His  hands  rolled 
up  into  iron  fists  and  he  fluttered  them  in  the 
air  like  the  wings  of  an  eagle.  He  raised  his 
voice,  and  it  was  like  the  voice  of  thunder. 

"Oh,    they    shall    regret    it!       The    Jewish 


ZERUBBABEL  143 

people  is  to  them  a  shattered  heap,  easy  to 
destroy  and  to  annihilate,  a  mob  without  rights, 
to  whom  each  may  do  as  he  pleases.  But  they 
will  learn  that  it  is  not  as  they  have  imagined. 
They  will  pay  too  dearly  for  every  Jewish  life, 
and  our  defeat  will  be  their  greatest  disaster. 
They  shall  regret  it!  They  shall  regret  it!" 
And  as  he  spoke  with  head  raised  proudly 
erect,  waving  fists  that  had  hardened  to  steel 
and  iron,  there  arrived  a  messenger,  bringing 
him  report  of  the  conversation  between  Mor- 
decai  and  Esther  and  calling  him  to  the  meet- 
ing-house, where  all  Jews  were  beginning  to 
assemble,  to  fast  for  Esther  three  days  and 
three  nights.  Zerubbabel's  eyes  lighted  up 
with  fury  and  he  said  to  the  messenger,  "Go  tell 
him  who  sent  you  that  the  fate  of  a  people  can- 
not depend  upon  a  woman  and  the  extent  to 
which  she  pleases  her  husband.  Go  tell  him 
that  now  is  no  time  for  fasting  and  weeping. 
With  weapons  in  their  hands  will  they  destroy 
the  Jews;  with  weapons  in  their  hands  must 
the   Jews   make   their  stand."     And   to   those 


144  TEMPTATIONS 

near  him  he  turned,  saying,  "You  have  heard 
what  I  said.  Go  and  spread  it  among  the 
people,  that  thus  spoke  Zerubbabel,  the  son  of 
Shealtiel  the  son  of  Jehoiachim,  King  of  Jeru- 
salem :  'Let  them  gather  in  the  meeting-house 
if  they  will;  not  to  fast  or  weep,  however,  but 
to  consider  means  of  defence.'  " 

But  those  about  him  did  not  obey  him  will- 
ingly, and  one  of  them  said,  "Let  us  wait  and 
see  what  Esther  can  do."  Zerubbabel  grew  red 
with  anger  and  cried  to  the  speaker,  "One  can 
see  that  you  are  the  son  of  a  servant  and  your 
soul  is  the  soul  of  a  born  slave.  Out  of  my 
sight  and  let  me  never  see  you  again!"  And 
his  messengers  departed  from  him  to  spread  his 
words  among  the  people,  doing  so,  however, 
with  shrugging  of  the  shoulders  and  hidden 
laughter.  And  Zerubbabel  arose  and  himself 
went  to  the  meeting-house,  to  summon  the  Jews 
to  battle  and  self-defence.  On  the  way  thither 
he  visited  many  houses,  finding  in  the  majority 
of  them  only  women  and  children  or  aged  and 
infirm  persons  who  could  not  move  their  limbs. 


ZERUBBABEL  145 

For  all  the  men,  young  and  old,  who  possessed 
any  strength  in  their  loins,  were  gathered  In 
the  meeting-place.  And  everywhere  he  went 
he  found  tears  and  despair, — sackcloth  upon 
their  bodies  and  ashes  upon  the  heads.  And 
everywhere  he  went  he  was  greeted  with  the 
same  wailing,  stammered  question:  What  was 
Esther  doing?  Did  he  not  have  news  of  her? 
Or  hadn't  the  king  summoned  Esther  to  him? 
And  when  he  began  to  speak  of  battle  and  self- 
defence  he  was  looked  upon  as  if  he  spoke  an 
unknown  language. 

One  very  old  man  said  to  him,  with  lips  that 
scarcely  could  move  and  In  a  voice  barely  aud- 
ible, "You  speak  of  resistance  and  self-defence. 
Young  man,  I  knew  your  grandfather  Jehoi- 
achim  and  your  granduncle  Zedeklah.  They, 
too,  gave  battle  and  raised  their  heads  against 
Nebuchadnezzar,  and  the  result  was  our  exile. 
No,  my  young  man,  summon  not  to  battle  and 
self-defence.  We  must  fast,  only  fast,  and 
Queen  Esther  will  come  to  our  rescue."  And 
Zerubbabel  realised  that  as  the  old  man  spoke. 


146  TEMPTATIONS 

so  spoke  all  his  people,  and  he  departed  for  the 
meeting-house,  with  lowered  head  and  lagging 
step. 

IV 

Zerubbabel  stopped  upon  the  threshold  of 
the  meeting-house  and  surveyed  the  great  as- 
sembly. And  when  he  saw  the  men  with  tear- 
stained  eyes  and  with  their  hands  upon  their 
heads,  his  eyes  flashed  and  his  lips  turned  white 
with  scorn  and  Ire.  He  was  surrounded  by  the 
crowd,  the  old  men  pressing  close  to  him  and 
the  young  men  In  the  rear. 

"What  have  you  brought  us,  Zerubbabel?" 
the  old  men  asked.  "Open  your  lips  and  tell 
us  what  news  of  Esther  and  what  do  you  know 
of  her?" 

The  questions  were  to  his  anger  like  oil  upon 
flames,  and  he  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  harsh 
words.  "Why  do  you  ask  me  of  Esther? 
What  do  you  wish,  you  greybeards,  of  that 
woman?  And  what  shall  I  tell  you  of  her? — 
Am  I,  then,  her  sweetheart,  and  shall  I  tell  you 


ZERUBBABEL  147 

of  her  beauty, — the  sweetness  of  her  body  and 
the  charm  of  her  love?" 

The  assembly  gaped  at  him  in  stupefaction, 
and  the  elders  spoke  again  to  him:  "What 
has  come  over  you,  Zerubbabel,  and  what  have 
you  on  your  heart?  You  are  wroth  and  speak 
harsh  words  to  us.  Or  can  it  be  that  you  do 
not  know  what  has  happened?  That  a  great 
disaster  impends  over  the  Jews, — complete  an- 
nihilation? And  who  can  help  us  if  not  Queen 
Esther?  Or  do  you  know  another  aid?  Speak, 
and  we  will  hear." 

Zerubbabel  rose  to  his  full  height;  his  eyes 
lighted  up,  and  his  voice  was  as  hard  as  steel 
and  iron.  "Yes,  I  know  another  aid,  and  I 
have  come  to  tell  it  to  you.  It  lies  within  you, 
— in  your  courage  and  in  your  arms  I" 

His  hearers  received  his  words,  mouths 
agape  with  surprise  and  astonishment;  Zerub- 
babel spoke  further  and  his  voice  throbbed 
with  warmth  "Why  do  you  eye  me  so?  Or 
can  you  have  misunderstood  me?  Your  salva- 
tion lies  In  you  alone, — in  your  courage  and  in 


148  TEMPTATIONS 

your  arms.  Why  have  you  so  yielded  to 
despair?  And  why  have  you  covered  your- 
selves with  ashes;  wherefore  your  fasting? 
Are  you  weakening  your  bodies  so  as  to  make 
the  work  of  your  enemies  all  the  more  easy? 
I  tell  you,  rather  arm  yourselves.  Gird  your 
loins  and  strengthen  your  muscles.  Instead 
of  wringing  your  hands  over  your  heads  and 
despairing,  learn  how  to  brandish  a  sword;  in- 
stead of  blinding  your  eyes  with  tears,  teach 
them  to  aim  an  arrow.  Be  not  like  sheep  who 
are  easily  led  to  the  slaughter,  but  like  lions 
that  stand  forth  against  their  pursuers.  It  is 
only  a  game  for  one  to  seize  a  sheep  and  kill  it, 
but  the  heart  of  the  lion-hunter  trembles,  and 
only  one  out  of  a  thousand  can  hunt  lions.  You 
sit  and  weep  and  fast  and  torture  yourselves, 
and  our  enemies  will  mock  and  laugh.  'We 
need  not  whet  our  swords,'  they  will  say. 
'With  our  dog-whips  we'll  be  able  to  strike  dead 
the  starved  and  terrified  Jews.'  And  they  will 
praise  Haman  for  the  permission  he  secured 
from  the  king  and  must  even  now  be  rejoicing 


ZERUBBABEL  149 

beforehand  over  the  Jewish  property  that  will 
so  easily  be  surrendered  to  them.  But  if  they 
learn  that  you  propose  to  make  a  bold,  heroic 
stand  against  them, — that  your  hands  are 
skilled  in  wielding  the  sword  and  your  eyes 
trained  to  direct  the  dart,  they  will  look  upon 
you  with  respect  and  admiration.  They  will 
no  longer  laugh  or  mock,  but  will  consider  the 
matter  well.  And  they  will  say,  'We  have  per- 
mission from  Haman,  but  who  will  provide  for 
our  widows  and  orphans  in  case  we  fall  at  the 
hands  of  the  Jews?'  " 

When  he  had  spoken  thus  and  more,  the 
elders  shook  their  heads  and  the  youths  looked 
at  the  ground  in  embarrassment.  At  last  the 
old  men  could  restrain  themselves  no  longer 
and  broke  in  upon  his  speech.  And  they  said, 
"You  are  young  in  years,  Zerubbabel,  and 
speak  according  to  your  years." 

Zerubbabel,  however,  interrupted  them  and 
his  voice  echoed  with  scorn.  "I  am  young  in 
years!  How  could  I  have  failed  to  foresee 
that  such  would  be  your  answer  1     I  am  young 


150  TEMPTATIONS 

in  years!  But  of  what  avail  are  your  grey 
hairs,  when  you,  too,  are  at  a  loss  for  counsel 
and  place  your  hopes  upon  a  woman's  under- 
garment? I  am  young  in  years!  But  young 
in  years  and  even  younger  than  I  was  my  grand- 
father David,  yet  he  delivered  the  Jewish 
people  from  Goliath.  Just  as  you  here,  now, 
so  then,  too,  your  men  were  in  despair.  They 
were  frightened  and  trembling  and  knew  not 
whither  to  turn  for  help.  Then  came  young 
David  and  brought  them  salvation.  Young  in 
years,  but  he  knew  that  a  little  stone,  well  aimed 
and  well  delivered,  was  more  effective  than 
fasting,  more  powerful  than  tears.  Therefore 
I  say  to  you,  why  do  you  reckon  my  years  for 
me?  See,  I  bring  you  deliverance.  Be  not 
like  women, — 'cry  babies'  who  begin  to  weep  at 
whatever  happens  to  them.  Be  men,  who  feel 
the  strength  of  their  arms  and  the  power  of 
their  loins.  Come,  let  us  cry  out  a  manifesto 
in  the  streets:  'Haman  has  purchased  the  Jew- 
ish people  and  given  it  over  to  annihilation,  but 
the  Jewish  people  is  not  an  object  to  be  bought 


ZERUBBABEL  151 

and  sold,  nor  will  It  accept  its  destruction  idly. 
The  Jews  have  armed  themselves  and  they  are 
being  trained  for  battle.  And  when  their 
enemies  fall  upon  them  to  kill  and  wipe  them 
out,  they  will  defend  themselves  even  as  the 
lioness  defends  her  cubs,  and  for  every  Jew 
that  perishes  ten  of  his  opponents  will  forfeit 
their  lives.  Come,  let  us  make  public  this 
manifesto  and  you  will  see  how  much  longer 
the  countenances  of  our  opponents  become  and 
how  downcast  they  will  look.  Cast  off  your 
sackcloth,  I  tell  you;  wipe  off  your  ashes  and 
straighten  out  your  shoulders.  Gird  your  loins 
and  take  double-edged  swords  in  your  hands. 
And  you  will  see  that  aid  will  come  to  you,  and 
your  blessing  will  fall  upon  Zerubbabel." 

His  countenance  blazed  like  a  torch  and  he 
looked  upon  the  assembly  with  the  eyes  of  a 
leader.  But  all  eyes  were  turned  away  from 
him  and  the  elders  shook  their  heads.  At  this 
moment  the  door  opened  and  Mordecai  entered. 
All  rushed  toward  the  newcomer,  surrounding 
him  and  showering  him  with  their  questions. 


152  TEMPTATIONS 

"What  says  Esther?" 
"What  does  Esther?" 
"What  news  of  Esther?" 


And  Mordecal,  the  son  of  Jair,  was  garbed 
In  sackcloth  and  ashes.  His  forehead  was  fur- 
rowed with  deep  wrinkles  and  his  eyes  were 
careworn.  It  was  easily  to  be  seen  that  many 
thoughts  weighed  upon  his  mind.  He  opened 
his  lips  and  answered  the  questioners.  "There 
Is  no  news  from  Esther.  And  what  would  you 
hear  from  her?  Do  you  not  know  that  she 
asked  for  three  days,  and  that  this  Is  only  the 
first?" 

All  the  assembled  hearers  bowed  their  heads 
In  mourning  and  wiped  their  eyes.  And  when 
Modecal,  with  a  deep  sigh,  sank  upon  a  bench, 
the  entire  house  resounded  with  sighs  and 
groans  from  all  hearts. 

Zerubbabel  stood  alone;  none  looked  upon 
him.  His  heart  was  bitter  to  the  point  of  cry- 
ing out,  and  he  would  gladly  have  struck  to  right 


ZERUBBABEL  153 

and  to  left  with  his  fists;  he  relieved  his  mood 
with  a  wild  outburst  of  laughter.  All  eyes  were 
directed  to  him  in  astonishment,  and  Mordecai 
spoke.  "Zerubbabel,  arrayed  In  his  finest 
clothes,  laughs  with  such  incisive  laughter. — 
What  ails  him?" 

Those  about  Mordecai  stepped  back,  as  If 
to  open  a  path  for  Zerubbabel,  that  he  might 
approach  Mordecai.  Zerubbabel,  however,  did 
not  stir  from  his  place.  Brimming  over  with 
scorn  and  bitterness  he  cried,  "Tell  him  what 
ails  me!"  In  a  few  words  they  repeated  the 
tenor  of  Zerubbabel's  speech,  saying  that  he 
summoned  his  people  to  battle  and  counselled 
them  not  to  place  their  faith  in  Esther. 

Mordecai  raised  his  glance  to  Zerubbabel; 
both  men  eyed  each  other  like  two  enemies 
measuring  each  other's  strength.  Then  Mor- 
decai spoke,  emphasising  every  word.  "In 
every  age  there  are  certain  persons  who  Imagine 
that  the  easiest  way  to  break  a  wall  is  with  one's 
head." 

Zerubbabel    answered    with    aversion    and 


154  TEIVIPTATIONS 

mockery.  "But  not  every  age  has  the  mis- 
fortune to  possess  a  leader  with  the  timidity  of 
a  weak  woman,  who  can  only  raise  his  hands 
to  his  head  and  cry  bitterly!" 

The  gathering  turned  its  glances  from  Mor- 
decai  to  Zerubbabel  and  from  Zerubbabel  to 
Mordecai.  It  was  as  if  two  gladiators  had 
stepped  forth  into  the  arena  to  wrestle  and 
seek  victory.  And  the  onlookers  became  en- 
tirely absorbed  in  the  scene  about  to  take  place, 
forgetting  their  great  misfortune.  Yet  they 
crowded  more  closely  about  Mordecai,  as 
though  expecting  protection  from  him  against 
Zerubbabel. 

Mordecai  felt  that  all  were  with  him  and 
none  was  with  Zerubbabel,  so  he  uttered  cutting 
words.  "Better  a  weak  old  woman  as  a  leader 
than  a  madman  who  Inspires  to  impossibilities. 
The  weakest  of  women  may  prevent  a  calamity, 
but  the  most  insignificant  madman  can  bring 
down  upon  his  people  the  most  grievous  of  dis- 
asters. I  do  not  desire  to  Insult  you,  Zerub- 
babel, but  what  you  counsel  Is  sheer  madness." 


ZERUBBABEL  155 

Zerubabbel  replied  bitterly:  "Woe  unto  the 
people  to  whom  it  is  preached  that  self-defence 
is  madness,  and  greater  woe  still  unto  the  people 
among  whom  such  preachment  finds  ready  ears. 
Such  a  people  is  a  heap  of  dead  bones,  from 
which  all  signs  of  life  have  fled." 

Mordecai  interrupted  him  with  a  calm,  self- 
confident  voice.  "Who  says  that  self-defence 
Is  madness?  Am  I  not,  then,  for  self-defence? 
Do  I  desire,  then,  that  we  exterminate  ourselves 
before  the  enemy  attacks  us?  Do  I  wish,  in- 
deed, that  we  cease  to  be?  Do  I  not  yearn  to 
rescue  our  people?  Let  our  people  defend  it- 
self; but  the  means  of  self-defence  are  various, 
and  your  way,  Zerubbabel,  is  folly." 

Zerubbabel  stood  there,  looking  at  Mordecai 
as  if  he  had  not  understood,  and  he  asked,  in 
great  surprise,  with  a  quivering  voice,  "How 
long  has  the  self-defence  of  a  people  meant  the 
pretty  face  of  a  young  woman?  Is  Esther's 
body  our  self-defence?" 

Again  Mordecai  replied  calmly  and  con- 
fidently.      "You    understand    by    self-defence 


156  TEMPTATIONS 

only  the  power  of  our  arms,  while  I  term  self- 
defence  the  power  of  beauty  and  the  power  of 
money  likewise.  You  are  young,  Zerubbabel, 
and  surely  you  know  the  power  of  beauty.  Say, 
Is  it  not  the  surest  way?  The  king's  heart  can 
be  purchased  for  us  with  beauty,  and  Esther 
must  do  it.  Is  not  Esther  my  uncle's  daughter? 
Was  she  not  to  me  even  as  my  own  child?  Is 
she  not  the  flesh  and  blood  of  all  of  us?  And 
yet  we  told  her  to  risk  her  life  and  go  unbidden 
to  the  king;  and  should  her  beauty  not  win  the 
king  and  should  she  as  a  consequence  be  put 
to  death,  then  we  will  choose  still  another  Jew- 
ish daughter, — one  even  more  beautiful.  And 
even  if  we  should  have  to  sacrifice  all  our  Jew- 
ish daughters  and  sisters  and  wives,  we  will 
do  so,  despite  the  great  grief  it  will  cause  us 
and  the  heaviness  of  the  blow.  Is  not  that, 
too,  self-defence?  And  when  our  beauty  has 
proved  unsuccessful,  we  will  defend  ourselves 
with  our  money,  with  our  possessions.  Haman 
purchased  us  with  ten  thousand  silver  talents; 
then  we   can  buy  ourselves   free   for  twenty, 


ZERUBBABEL  157 

thirty,  forty.  From  time  immemorial  these 
have  been  the  surest  means  of  self-defence. 
Was  not  our  father  Jacob  freed  from  his 
brother  Esau  by  his  possessions?  Did  not  also 
your  great-great-grandfather,  King  Asa,  save 
himself  from  Baasha,  King  of  Israel,  through 
bribing  Benhadad,  King  of  Aram?  And  did  not 
Judith  with  her  beauty  rescue  the  Jews  from 
Holof ernes?  Your  self-defence,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  self-destruction.  Small  and  few  are 
we  among  the  peoples  of  the  hundred  and  seven 
and  twenty  provinces.  Who  will  fear  our 
weapons?  Who  will  be  impressed  by  our 
arms?  And  it  may  come  to  pass,  moreover, 
that  if  the  king  learns  that  Jews  are  arming 
themselves,  he  will  send  against  us  his  power- 
ful army,  trained  in  warfare;  and  there  will  not 
be  a  vestige  left  of  our  people.  Would  you 
have  it  thus,  Zerubbabel?" 

Zerubbabel  made  answer  in  loud  and  bitter 
tones:  "Shame  upon  you  and  upon  all  who 
side  with  you !  Shame  upon  the  whole  Jewish 
people  which  beholds  its  salvation  in  money  and 


158  TEMPTATIONS 

its  self-defence  In  the  beautiful  bodies  of  its 
daughters !  Now  will  I  rend  my  garments  and 
put  on  sackcloth  and  ashes!  Now  will  I  weep 
and  wail  my  bitter  lamentation !  My  people  is 
dead!  My  people  is  a  putrefying  corpse.  It 
is  an  abode  only  for  worms,  reptiles  and  In- 
sects. All  living  spirits  have  forsaken  it. 
Where  shall  I  find  words  to  express  my  abhor- 
rence? Where  shall  I  find  the  thunder  with 
which  to  boom  forth  my  wrath?  Judah, 
where  are  your  warriors?  Where  are  your 
heroes,  Israel?  Behold  who  your  leaders  are, 
and  hear  what  they  counsel !  In  their  debase- 
ment they  do  not  revolt  against  defiling  their 
most  sacred  possessions,  and  the  honour  of 
their  daughters  is  of  less  worth  to  them  than 
the  meanest  life!  Lion  of  yore,  you  have 
turned  into  a  dog!" 

Zerubbabel  struggled  for  air  and  words  failed 
him.  He  rent  his  garments  and  tore  his  hair, 
crying  aloud  and  bitterly.  He  wrung  his  hands 
high  above  his  head  and  kept  repeating,  "Shame 
upon  them!     Shame!     Shame!"     He  left  the 


ZERUBBABEL  159 

meeting-house,  his  legs  wavering  like  those  of 
a  drunkard. 

The  men,  gathered  in  the  meeting-house,  fol- 
lowed him  with  frightened,  astonished  looks, 
and  not  a  mouth  opened  to  speak  a  word.  Only 
Mordecai  smiled  and  quoted  the  popular  say- 
ing, "Is  that  not  correct?  It  is  better  to  be  a 
live  dog  than  a  dead  lion." 

The  assembly,  however,  became  as  If  some- 
thing had  defiled  it  and  rendered  it  unclean. 
Yet  none  found  in  him  the  courage  to  follow 
Zerubbabel. 

VI 

Zerubbabel  went  in  search  of  Sheshana,  to 
pour  out  his  heart  to  her  and  cry  out  his  anger. 
He  walked  with  rapid  strides,  looking  neither 
to  right  nor  to  left,  and  groaned  heavily: 
"What  a  grievous  shame!  What  a  deep  dis- 
grace !" 

Impetuously  he  opened  the  door  to  She- 
shana's  house,  and  he  felt  that  he  would  throw 
himself  upon  her  bosom  and  wail  out  his  im- 


i6o  TEMPTATIONS 

mense  sorrow.  He  would  bemoan  his  people, 
which  he  had  lost, — his  veneration  of  it,  his 
belief  in  it,  which  had  gone  never  to  return. 
But  when  he  beheld  Sheshana  he  was  rooted  to 
the  spot  and  his  mouth  could  utter  no  sound. 
She  was  dressed  in  sackcloth;  she  was  pale,  her 
eyes  red  with  much  weeping,  and  her  small 
form  seemed  even  smaller  and  drawn.  When 
she  saw  Zerubbabel  she  burst  into  loud  crying 
as  if  she  had  long  repressed  it.  Then,  as  she 
swallowed  her  tears,  she  spoke. 

"You  have  come  at  last!  At  last  you  are 
here! — I  thought  that  something  had  befallen 
you  and  I  sent  after  you,  but  my  messengers 
could  not  find  you.  They  brought  me  the  news, 
however,  that  you  were  safe  and  sound  and  that 
you  were  running  about  among  the  people,  sum- 
moning them  to  armed  resistance.  I  could  not 
believe  them  and  told  them  that  they  brought 
me  lies.  But  one  after  another  came  to  me 
with  the  same  report  and  I  was  forced  to  be- 
lieve it.  The  world  became  dark  and  dreary 
to  me.     Naughty  Zerubbabel,  how  could  you 


ZERUBBABEL  161 

forget  me  at  such  a  terrible  time?  How  could 
you  leave  me  alone  In  an  hour  of  peril?  Don't 
you  know  that  your  Sheshana  is  a  timorous 
maiden, — that  her  courage  vanishes  at  the 
slightest  danger?  Oh,  I  am  frightened  to 
death!     I  am  frightened  to  death!" 

Zerubbabel  stood  as  one  transfixed;  his  eyes 
shone  like  glowing  coals,  his  glance  was  stern 
and  angry,  and  his  voice  was  piercing.  "You 
know  what  I  have  been  doing,  and  yet  you  can 
speak  to  me  in  this  manner?  Zerubbabel  went 
forth  to  rouse  the  Jewish  people  to  self-defence, 
to  armed  resistance,  and  his  Sheshana  dressed 
herself  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  and  succumbed 
to  fright!  Can  you  be  Sheshana?  Can  you 
be  my  sweetheart?  Was  not  your  heart  flooded 
with  courage,  and  did  it  not  shout  with  jubila- 
tion because  Zerubbabel  was  not  among  the 
cowards  and  the  despairers?" 

Sheshana  continued  to  weep  and  kept  re- 
peating, "Oh,  I  am  frightened  to  death!  I  am 
frightened  to  death!" 

Zerubbabel  shook  his  head  and  smiled  cyni- 


i62  TEMPTATIONS 

cally.  "I  thought  I  should  find  a  solace  in  you, 
— a  balm  for  my  grieving  heart.  Sheshana  will 
understand  me  and  will  side  with  me,  I  thought, 
and  she  will  give  me  strength.  But  woe  to  my 
wretchedness  that  is  so  great!  Sheshana  greets 
me  with  tears,  with  petty  fears  and  harsh 
words.  And  she  has  no  ears  for  me, — no 
heart.  .  .  . 

Sheshana,  however,  raised  her  head,  pursing 
her  lips  with  a  surly  grimace.  "I  can  have 
neither  ears  for  you  nor  a  heart.  For  that 
which  you  desire  is  folly,  and  you  are  the  butt 
of  all  men's  mockery.  'Zerubbabel  is  a  vision- 
ary,' they  say, — a  dreamer.  He  demands  the 
impossible  and  utters  dangerous  things.  He 
wishes  to  incite  the  scant  Jewish  people  against 
the  numberless  enemy,  and  calls  that  self-de- 
fence. Why  does  he  not  preach,  rather,  that 
great  and  small,  men  and  women, — all  the  Jew- 
ish people — shall  cast  itself  into  the  rivers  and 
streams  that  flow  through  the  hundred  and 
seven  and  twenty  provinces?'  That  is  what 
they  are  all  saying,  shaking  their  heads  at  men- 


ZERUBBABEL  163 

tlon  of  you.  And  are  they  not  right,  and  do 
they  not  speak  with  justice?  Then  how  could 
I  feel  delight,  and  whence  should  joy  have 
come  to  me?  Because  you  forgot  me,  left  me 
all  alone  and  went  in  pursuit  of  dangerous 
dreams?" 

Zerubbabel  raised  his  voice  and  uttered  sharp 
words.  "If  you  had  flayed  my  body  with 
thorns  and  stung  it  with  scorpions,  you  would 
not  hurt  me  so  much  as  your  words  have  done. 
When  all  the  mockers  ridiculed  me,  my  bosom 
was  filled  with  anger  and  scorn,  and  I  felt 
strong  in  my  opposition.  But  when  you  joined 
the  mockery  and  added  your  voice  to  the  laugh- 
ter, then  I  became  the  most  unhappy,  the  most 
wretched  man  under  heaven.  You  have  be- 
come a  stranger  to  me,  Sheshana;  with  your 
words  you  have  dug  an  abyss  between  us,  and 
when  Zerubbabel  has  lost  Sheshana,  he  has 
lost  his  life." 

With  terror  in  her  eyes  the  maiden  cried, 
"Oh,  how  can  you  speak  like  that?" 

As   she    looked    at   him    with    her    horror- 


i64  TEMPTATIONS 

stricken  countenance  and  her  flaming  cheeks, 
Zerubbabel's  heart  was  softened,  and  with  a 
passionate  impulse  he  rushed  to  her,  clasping 
her  to  him  with  all  his  fire  and  tenderness. 
"My  only  one,  my  love,"  he  whispered,  "do 
not  desert  Zerubbabel.  Do  not  mock  me.  Be- 
lieve in  me.  Believe  that  I  have  not  become  de- 
mented and  that  I  am  not  a  mere  dreamer.  Be- 
lieve that  I  have  been  born  to  great  deeds,  and 
I  will  accomplish  them.  I  will  declare  war 
against  the  scoffers  and  misleaders  of  the  people 
and  will  root  them  out.  I  will  teach  my  people 
to  be  proud,  and  will  lead  it  to  victory.  Be 
you  the  spring  from  which  I  shall  drink  strength 
for  my  bones  and  power  for  my  veins.  Pour 
courage  into  me  and  cheer  my  weary  soul.  Tell 
me  that  I  am  right  and  they  who  scoff  at  me  are 
stricken  with  blindness.  Tell  me  that  you  were 
mistaken  and  that  for  only  a  moment  were  you 
alienated  from  your  Zerubbabel." 

But  Sheshana  wept,  hiding  her  face  In  her 
hands,  and  murmured,  "I  cannot!     I  cannot!" 

With  passion  more  intense  than  ever  Zerub- 


ZERUBBABEE  165 

babel  spoke  to  her.  "See,  they  wish  to  buy 
themselves  free  of  danger  with  the  body  of 
Esther.  They  send  her  to  risk  her  life,  and 
themselves  they  try  to  save  with  fasting.  And 
if  Esther's  body  avail  not,  they  will  have  re- 
course to  money,  or  the  body  of  some  other 
beautiful  woman,  or  both  these  things  together. 
Say,  Sheshana,  is  this  not  despicable?  Is  it 
not  base  and  cowardly?  Everything  within  me 
cries  out  in  revolt  against  it;  does  nothing  cry 
out  in  you?  Men — to  send  a  woman's  body 
before  them !  Sheshana,  I  have  no  words  to 
express  how  contemptible  that  is  !  Do  you  feel 
it,  Sheshana?  Do  you  not  feel  as  if  you  had 
been  soiled,  debased,  spat  upon?  Sheshana, 
see  how  my  muscles  stiffen, — do  you  see  my 
strength?  I  feel  that  my  arms  are  giant  wings 
ready  to  bear  my  people  across  every  abyss  and 
peril.  Why  do  they  fear  to  take  up  arms? 
Victory  or  Death,  but  no  purchasing  our  secur- 
ity! Men  who  hide  behind  a  woman  have  no 
sense  of  honour,  and  shall  my  whole  people  con- 
sist of  such  men?     Shall  Zerubbabel's  people 


i66  TEMPTATIONS 

lack  a  sense  of  honour?  Does  not  your  soul 
revolt  against  It  all,  Sheshana?" 

But  Sheshana  lay  quietly  in  his  arms,  speak- 
ing not  a  word.  He  clasped  her  still,  looking 
passionately  into  her  eyes  and  asking  as  before, 
"Tell  me,  Sheshana,  tell  me." 

At  last  Sheshana  whispered  her  reply:  "You 
remain  with  me,  and  let  them  do  as  they  deem 
best." 

"To  the  shame  and  dishonour  of  the  whole 
Jewish  people !"  exclaimed  Zerubbabel,  and  a 
deep  sadness  suddenly  came  over  him. 

Then  Sheshana  spoke  her  tactless  words; 
"They  are  in  the  majority,  and  they  know  what 
is  for  the  best." 

Zerubbabel  recoiled  as  if  a  snake  had  bitten 
him.  He  was  at  first  impelled  to  cry  with 
bitter  lamentations,  but  he  felt  a  great  anger 
surging  within.  He  placed  his  hand  on  his 
heart  and  beat  his  breast,  then  all  at  once 
turned  to  the  door.  He  remained  before  it, 
leaning  heavily  against  it  as  he  said,  with  a 


ZERUBBABEL  167 

hoarse  voice,  "You  will  never  see  me  again, 
Sheshana !" 

A  tremor  passed  through  her  every  limb; 
filled  with  fright  and  despair  she  cried  out, 
"But,  Zerubbabel!" 

Again  he  murmured,  "You  will  never  see  me 
again,  Sheshana  I" 

Terrified,  again  she  shrieked,  "But,  Zerub- 
babel!"  She  brought  her  white,  shuddering 
hands  to  her  cheeks  and  her  glance  was  that 
of  a  frightened,  stupefied  dove. 

Zerubbabel  spoke  with  a  quivering  voice: 
"I  love  you,  and  my  love  is  as  strong  as  death. 
At  night  upon  my  couch  I  will  call  your  name 
and  my  heart  will  languish  with  yearning.  I 
will  gash  my  body  with  the  nails  of  my  fingers 
and  my  eyes  will  burn  under  hot  tears.  But 
not  you  can  be  Zerubbabel's  wife, — not  you 
the  mother  of  his  children.  You  will  never  see 
me  again,  Sheshana!" 

Sheshana's  bosom  heaved  convulsively;  her 
rapid  breathing  was  choked  with  tears,  and  her 
shriek  was  heart-rending.     "Zerrubbabel !" 


i68  TEMPTATIONS 

But  he  had  already  opened  the  door,  and 
standing  upon  the  threshold  he  turned  his  face 
to  the  maiden  and  said,  in  firm  accents,  "Go 
and  learn  to  be  Zerubbabel's  wife!"  Then  he 
closed  the  door  behind  him. 

She  screamed;  it  was  the  cry  of  a  wounded 
deer.     She  rushed  to  the  door,  but  her  legs 
gave    way   beneath    her.      She    stretched    her 
hands  out   against  the   closed   door,   groaning 
and   bemoaning   her   great   misfortune.       She 
could  not  speak.   Her  throat  was  as  if  clamped, 
and  her  tongue  could  not  move.     Only  later 
was  she  able  to  whisper  the  name  scarce  aud- 
ibly:   "Zerubbabel,  Zerubbabel,   Zerubbabel!" 
Only  his  name  could  she  murmur,  and  nothing 
more.     Then  she  threw  herself  upon  the  bed, 
her  hands  pressed  to  her  face,  and  her  body 
in  a  heap,  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  some  one 
had  slapped  her. 

And  Zerubbabel  strode  on  through  the  night 
and  the  gloom,  far  beyond  the  city,  into  deep 
solitude,  to  the  place  where  a  huge  cliff  rose 
high  above  a  deep  abyss. 


DRABKIN 

A  Novelette  of  Proletarian  Life 


DRABKIN 

A  Novelette  of  Proletarian  Life 


DRABKIN  was  an  excellent  workman, — a 
pocketbook  maker  whose  handiwork  was 
the  talk  of  the  town.  Folks  praised  him  in  his 
presence  and  in  his  absence ;  he  knew  his  worth 
and  held  his  head  proudly  erect.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  had  been  created  for  the  express 
purpose  of  speaking  the  truth  to  all  employers 
right  before  their  very  faces,  and  upon  the 
slightest  provocation  he  would  let  them  know 
that  they  were  living  off  his  sweat  and  blood, — 
that  they  were  exploiters,  bloodsuckers,  can- 
nibals, and  so  forth  and  so  on.  So  that  he 
never  could  find  a  steady  place,  and  through 
the  year  he  spent  more  days  idle  than  at  his 

employment. 

171 


172  TEMPTATIONS 

The  bosses  pitied  him.  "He's  a  devil  with 
claws,"  they  would  say.  "May  no  good  Jew 
know  him  I  .  .  .  But  he  has  golden  hands!" 

"If  it  weren't  for  his  crazy  notions  he'd  be 
rolling  in  money.  Such  a  workman!  His  fin- 
gers fly,  as  if  by  magic!" 

Yet  they  could  not  suffer  him  in  their  shops. 
They  even  feared  him.  He  was  as  widely 
known  as  a  bad  shilling,  yet  he  was  hired  in  the 
hope  that  perhaps  he  had  changed  for  the 
better;  perhaps  he  had  calmed  down  and  be- 
come quieter.  Moreover,  it  was  a  pity  to  let 
a  hand  go  around  Idle,  when  he  could  do  more 
work  in  twelve  hours  than  another  could  ac- 
complish in  twenty-four.  But  in  a  couple  of 
days  the  employer  would  have  to  confess  with 
a  groan  that  Drabkin  was  the  same  insolent 
chap  as  ever,  that  It  was  dangerous  to  have 
him  in  a  Jewish  shop,  because  he  would  spoil 
the  rest  of  the  men.  So  he  was  shown  the 
door. 

He  did  not  take  this  to  heart.     It  had  al- 
ready become  a  game  to  him.     He  was  certain 


DRABKIN  173 

that  the  employers  would  finally  be  forced  to 
come  to  him,  because  they  needed  him  and  must 
have  him.  For  "his  fingers  fly,  as  if  by  magic," 
And  he  would  simply  smile  in  ironic  fashion 
and  pierce  the  bosses  with  a  look  that  caused 
them  to  shiver  in  their  boots. 

"What?  You  don't  like  my  ditty?"  he 
would  ask.  "You're  punishing  me  for  telling 
the  truth,  ha?     Exploiters!     Vampires!" 

"You  ought  to  be  put  into  prison,  or  into  the 
madhouse,"  they  would  reply.  "You're  a  dan- 
gerous character.     You're  a  mad  dog!   .  .  ." 

"Ah,  ahem,  tra-la!"  he  would  mock,  in  de- 
light. "But  how  do  you  like  my  work?  I'm 
a  fast  worker,  ha?" 

And  how  this  truthful  boast  cut  the  bosses! 

"May  your  hands  be  paralysed!"  they  would 
answer.  "If  your  character  were  only  as  good 
as  your  workmanship,  you'd  be  rolling  in 
money." 

"Working  for  you  people!"  he  would  sud- 
denly revert  to  his  favourite  theme.  "With 
a    fourteen-hour   day   at  the   wages   you   pay, 


174  TEMPTATIONS 

grass  will  soon  be  growing  over  my  head.  Ex- 
ploiters!    Vampires!     Cannibals!  .  .  ." 

"There  he  goes  again !"  they  would  break 
in.  "March!  Off  with  you.  Go  shout  It 
from  the  house-tops!" 

"Ah,  ahem,  tra-la !"  he  would  grunt  again. 
"You  don't  like  It?     Walt!     Just  wait!  .  .  ." 

At  the  last  words  he  would  point  a  warning 
finger  at  them.  Just  what  they  were  to  wait 
for  he  himself  did  not  know,  but  he  had  a  feel- 
ing that  something  or  other  was  bound  to  hap- 
pen that  would  be  not  at  all  to  the  bosses'  taste. 

He  would  leave  the  employers  triumphantly, 
his  eyes  beaming  with  happiness,  as  if  he  had 
just  won  a  significant  victory;  with  his  glance, 
as  he  passed  along  the  street,  he  would  transfix 
every  heavy  paunched  Jew  who  looked  like  an 
employer  of  labour.  And  his  brain  teemed 
with  cutting  remarks  that  he  should  have  used 
and  which  he  would  be  sure  to  employ  in  the 
very  next  encounter  with  those  exploiters,  those 
bloodsuckers,  those  cannibals.  He  saw  him- 
self surrounded  by  a  host  of  toilers  who  raised 


DRABKIN  175 

their  eyes  to  him  as  their  guardian  and  de- 
fender. His  breast  swelled  with  pride  and 
self-confidence  and  he  was  contented  with  him- 
self. .  .  . 

"Jilted  again!"  was  his  jocular  greeting  to 
his  landlady,  a  thin  old  woman,  as  he  entered 
the  house. 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "From  what 
gallows  has  he  escaped  in  broad  daylight?" 
she  queried  to  herself. 

"Fired  again?"  she  scolded  loudly,  eyeing 
him  with  scorn.  "The  Lord  protect  us,  what  a 
man  you  are !" 

She  shook  her  head,  as  if  she  had  long  ago 
decided  that  he  was  a  hopeless  case;  he  was  a 
good-for-nothing  in  the  first  place  and  a  good- 
for-nothing  he  would  remain.  She  turned 
away  with  a  depreciatory  curl  of  her  lips.  The 
wrinkles  on  her  face,  which  was  as  dry  and 
yellow  as  parchment,  became  even  deeper. 

"I  gave  them  a  bawling-out,  all  right!"  he 
chuckled,  while  his  eyes  sparkled  with  joy. 

"Much  satisfaction  that  is!"  replied  the  old 


176  TEMPTATIONS 

woman,  sarcastically.  "They  must  have  taken 
it  terribly  to  heart!     Upon  my  word!" 

"Such  exploiters,  —  vampires,  —  cannibals. 
The  world  Isn't  enough  for  them!"  he  con- 
tinued, unmindful  of  her  words.  "Do  you 
think  I'm  going  to  be  afraid  of  them?  What? 
Do  you  Imagine  we're  going  to  let  them  fatten 
on  our  sweat  and  blood,  and  look  on  In  silence? 
Bah!  Not  a  bit  of  it!  I  refuse  to  be  silent! 
Such  exploiters,  cut-purses!  I  refuse  to  be 
silent!  .  .  ." 

"Psh!  As  bold  as  a  Cossack!"  she  ridiculed. 
"But  what  satisfaction  did  you  get?  It  was 
you  who  was  chased  out!  You,  with  your 
'splolters'  and  your  'poiters' !   .  .  ." 

She  was  angry  with  the  word,  which  she  did 
not  understand.  She  even  thought  that  If  It 
had  not  been  for  that  word  Drabkin  would 
not  have  come  to  sorrow. 

She  was  ready  to  spit  contempuously  upon  the 
floor  and  leave  him.  But  Drabkin  seized  upon 
her  last  words. 


DRABKIN  177 

"Chased  out?  Not  so  quick,  my  dear! 
They  don't  chase  me  out  in  a  hurry  I" 

"They're  afraid  of  you,  I  suppose!"  she 
snarled.  "I  wouldn't  let  you  cross  my  thres- 
hold!" 

"Well,  you  see  that  they  do!"  he  boasted. 

"Wild  man!"  she  commented  in  disgust. 

"Aha!"  was  his  victorious  response. 

After  that  "aha"  the  old  woman  spoke  no 
more.  She  spat  out  in  scorn,  adjusted  the  scarf 
over  her  wig  and  walked  away  from  him. 

"  'Sploiters,  poiters.'  "  She  continued  to 
repeat  the  evil  word  to  herself  with  anger. 


II 

BUT  he  was  vied  in  an  utterly  different 
light  by  Chashke,  the  old  woman's  daugh- 
ter. 

When  she  returned  at  evening  from  work — 
she  was  a  dressmaker — her  mother  met  her 
with  this  greeting: 

"He's  sitting  around  idle  again." 

And  she  nodded  her  head  in  the  direction  of 
Drabkin's  room. 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  asked  the  daughter,  re- 
moving her  cloak. 

The  old  woman  was  taken  aback  by  the 
girl's  retort  and  was  at  a  loss  whether  or  not 
to  reply.  She  was  surprised  that  the  news  did 
not  affect  her  daughter. 

At  this  moment  Drabkin  came  out  of  his 
room. 

"I'm  home  again!"  he  announced,  merrily. 

178 


DRABKIN  179 

"What's  happened  to  you  to-day?"  asked 
Chashke. 

"What's  happened?  What  should  happen? 
It  happened!  They're  a  pack  of  blood-suck- 
ers, exploiters,  and  that's  all!"  he  exclaimed, 
hotly. 

"  'Splolters,  polters,'  "  Interrupted  the  old 
woman,  mockingly. 

"But  why  should  you  have  thrown  up  your 
job  on  this  particular  day?"  asked  Chashke,  not 
heeding  her  mother's  sarcasm. 

"Why?  Because!"  he  shouted.  "Why!  I 
can't  look  upon  their  actions  In  cold  blood.  It's 
inhuman  !  It's  murderous  !  Ephraim  Is  sup- 
posed to  work  till  nine  o'clock  at  night  and  he 
works  till  half  past  ten;  when  he  came  to  work 
this  morning  at  half  past  seven,  they  fell  upon 
him  like  a  mad  dog  and.  .  .  ." 

"Isn't  It  his  granny's  worry?"  Interjected  the 
old  woman. 

"I  can't  bear  such  things.  I  can't  look  on  In 
silence.     So  I  gave  it  to  them!  .  .  ." 


i8o  TEMPTATIONS 

"Pshl  Their  shirts  turned  to  linen!  How 
they  must  have  trembled  before  you!" 

But  Chashke  cast  an  angry  look  at  her 
mother. 

"What  then?"  she  asked,  contemptuously: 
"Are  the  workingmen  to  suffer  such  things 
without  a  word  of  protest?" 

"Let  Ephraim  holler  for  himself.  Why 
need  he  do  the  shouting?"  replied  the  old 
woman. 

"And  suppose  Ephraim  is  a  meek  little  lamb? 
And  suppose  Ephraim  allows  everybody  to 
walk  all  over  him?"  cried  Drabkin,  springing 
to  his  feet,  his  countenance  burning  with  in- 
dignation. 

Chashke  eyed  her  mother  with  ironic  tri- 
umph. 

"Then  let  him  lie  in  the  earth,  let  him  rot,  if 
he's  such  a  fool,"  retorted  the  old  woman. 

"I  can't  hold  my  tongue  when  I  see  things 
like  that,"  said  Drabkin,  his  voice  somewhat 
softer. 


DRABKIN  181 

"Then  you  He  In  the  earth,  too,  and  rot  away, 
if  you're  such  a  fool!" 

"But  there's  no  need  of  cursing,"  interposed 
the  daughter,  angrily. 

"Bah !     You're  no  better  than  he  is !" 

"Don't  you  lilie  it?" 

But  Drabkin  would  not  permit  matters  to 
grow  into  a  quarrel, 

"I  can't  look  on  in  silence  .  .  ." 

He  launched  into  a  discussion  at  the  top  of 
his  voice.  In  the  first  place,  Ephraim  was 
really  as  meek  as  a  lamb ;  you  could  do  with  him 
whatever  you  wished,  and  he  would  offer  no 
remonstrance.  In  the  second,  he  wasn't  much 
of  a  workman,  and  if  he  were  discharged  from 
one  place,  he  could  not  find  another  position  in 
a  hurry.  So  that  he  was  simply  afraid  to  talk 
back.  But  he,  Drabkin !  He  couldn't  see 
such  doings  and  remain  quiet!  He  had  little 
reason  to  fear  the  bosses;  he  defied  them, — 
the  exploiters,  the  vampires !  The  world 
wasn't  enough  for  them,  they  wanted  more, 
more.  .  .  . 


i82  TEMPTATIONS 

And  Chashke  gazed  at  him  with  eyes  brim- 
ful of  love,  agreed  with  everything  he  said, 
and  experienced  and  felt  the  same  thoughts  and 
feelings  as  he. 

Old  Dina  shook  her  head  ironically. 

"Two  lunatics  1  One  worse  than  the 
other  I  .  .  ." 


Ill 

DRABKIN  and  Chashke  were  considered 
sweethearts.  "A  love-affair,"  every- 
body would  laugh.  The  bells  rang,  but  It  was 
no  holiday,  that  Is,  It  was  merely  a  rumour. 

Drabkin  was  a  handsome  fellow.  Of 
medium  build,  broad-shouldered,  a  fair,  round 
face  framed  In  a  little  blonde  beard;  a  medium- 
sized  mouth  with  thin,  blood-red  lips,  above 
which  lay  a  thick  moustache,  a  well-carved  nose, 
a  high,  broad  forehead  and  a  round  head  cov- 
ered with  long,  thick,  dark  brown  hair.  His 
dark  grey  eyes  sparkled  continuously.  Young 
girls  would  fall  In  love  with  him  at  first  sight. 
But  he  paid  no  attention  to  girls.  He  knew 
very  few  of  them  and  had  little  to  do  with  them. 
He  was  always  absorbed  In  his  "exploiters"; 
he  was  not  even   aware  of  Chashke's  loving 

glances.     He  liked  to  talk  with  her,  because 

183 


i84  TEMPTATIONS 

she  sympathised  with  him.  She  understood  him 
and  agreed  with  him.  He  could  talk  and  talk, 
with  her  forever,  without  getting  weary.  But 
marriage  was  far  from  his  thoughts — 

Chashke,  too,  was  a  beautiful  girl. 

"If  my  Chashke  should  put  on  fine  clothes," 
the  old  woman  would  say,  "you  couldn't  look 
into  her  face  any  more  than  you  can  look 
straight  into  the  sun."  Of  course  she  exag- 
gerated a  trifle,  just  like  a  mother,  but  by  no 
means  did  she  lie  when  she  spoke  thus.  Chashke 
was  somewhat  shorter  than  Drabkin ;  thin,  with 
sunken  cheeks  and  a  flat  bosom.  But  she  pos- 
sessed an  exquisite  waist,  a  pretty  mouth  with 
charming  lips,  a  straight  nose,  small  ears  and  a 
fair  forehead.  But  most  beautiful  of  all  were 
her  long  black  tresses  and  her  blue  eyes. 

If  she  had  only  possessed  a  dowry,  she  would 
have  been  seized  upon  long  before,  but  she  did 
not  own  even  a  good  dress.  So  the  young  fel- 
lows hovered  about  her  for  the  mere  sake  of 
her  company,  paid  her  compliments,  which  she 
received,  however,  with  a  silent  smile,  and  tried 


DRABKIN  185 

to  play  with  her  hands,  which  she  would  bash- 
fully withdraw.  She  acquired  a  reputation  as 
a  "touch-me-not,"  and  the  reason  for  this  atti- 
tude was  popularly  attributed  to  the  soft  spot 
in  her  heart  for  Drabkin. 

And  she  really  loved  him.  But  it  seemed  to 
her  that  Drabkin  would  never  marry.  "He  has 
no  use  for  it."  Never  had  he  offended  her 
with  a  word,  let  alone  a  touch.  He  always 
spoke  to  her  only  about  "his  interests,"  about 
justice  and  injustice, — sought  the  truth  among 
folks  and  failed  to  find  it  At  such  times  he 
would  spurt  flames,  thump  the  table  and  run 
madly  about  the  room.  "No,"  she  would  tell 
herself.  "He  will  not,  he  should  not,  he  must 
not  marry  I" 

But  suppose  he  5/io«/</ marry  her?  .  .  .  Oh, 
what  a  life  would  be  hers !  She  would  work, 
— work  ever  so  hard,  enough  for  two,  and  he 
was  earning  good  money,  besides.  But  she 
would  not  interfere  with  him  in  any  way.  Not 
in  the  slightest.  Let  him  remain  just  as  he  was. 
,\  precious  soul,  indeed  1     Ah,     Lord  of  the 


i86  TEMPTATIONS 

universe,  what  a  happy  existence  they'd 
lead!  .  .  . 

But  no!  .  .  .  Soon  children  would  come. 
.  .  .  She  would  not  be  able  to  work.  Her 
mother  .  .  . 

"God,  God  in  Heaven,  why  do  you  visit  such 
punishment  upon  the  poor!"  she  would  despair. 
He  must  not,  he  must  not  marry.  .  .  .  But 
what  a  happy  life  they  would  lead,  what  a  hap- 
py life!  .  .  . 

And  she  concealed  her  feelings  from  him. 
This  was  exceedingly  difficult.  Oh,  how  she 
would  have  loved  to  throw  her  arms  about  him, 
and  press  him  to  her  tightly,  ever  so  tightly, — 
press  her  very  soul  into  him, — become  together 
with  him  a  single  being.  .  .  .  Her  breath 
would  come  in  gasps,  she  would  grow  dizzy,  and 
her  temples  would  throb  with  hammer  blows. 
She  hardly  dared  sit  near  him,  lest  he  discover 
what  was  going  on  in  her  heart.  And  suppose 
he  should  discover?  .  .  . 

Suppose  he  should  discover,  and  embrace  her, 


DRABKIN  187 

and  place  his  arms  about  her  neck,  and  kiss  her, 
caress  her,  squeeze  her!  .  .  . 

A  strangely  sweet  sensation  would  ripple 
over  her  body,  until  she  began  to  tremble. 

He  was  standing  so  close  to  her.  She  could 
almost  feel  his  breath.  And  she  watched  every 
movement  of  his,  read  his  eyes, — perhaps  .   .   . 

Then  she  would  be  ashamed  of  herself  on 
account  of  her  thoughts.  Such  impossibilities 
as  came  into  her  head!  Such  selfish  thoughts 
as  she  could  think,  when  he  was  speaking  of 
such  lofty  subjects! 

It  was  altogether  unbecoming.  .  .  .  Fie! 


IV 

BUT  Drabkin  married.  Not  Chashke,  but 
a  certain  Chyenke,  a  girl  with  a  dowry  of 
five  hundred  roubles. 

This  happened  to  him  after  a  terrible  fit  of 
fury  against  all  the  bosses  in  the  world.  He 
came  to  a  great  determination:  he  would  him- 
self become  a  boss. 

"Let  all  trace  of  them  be  wiped  off  the  face 
of  the  earth, — the  exploiters!"  he  cried,  run- 
ning up  and  down  the  room.  "Let  no  memory 
of  them  remain, — the  vampires !  May  they  be 
sown  thickly  and  grow  up  sparse,  the  canni- 
bals! Enough!  All  over!  I'll  become  a  boss 
myself!   .  .  ." 

He  became  silent,  but  continued  to  pace 
about.    He  was  planning. 

"He'll  become  a  boss!"  scoffed  the  old 
woman.    "A  bosh,  you  mean!" 

l88 


DRABKIN  189 

She  broke  into  cutting  laughter.  Chashke 
looked  at  her  uneasily. 

"For  myself,  in  business  only  for  myself,"  he 
spoke,  meditatively. 

"Ha-ha !  He'll  have  to  pawn  his  breeches," 
laughed  the  old  woman. 

And  Chashke  transferred  her  uneasy  look 
to  Drabkin.  She  had  at  once  begun  to  wonder 
how  he  was  going  to  make  even  a  start. 

"Never  mind.  I'll  get  money!"  he  assured 
them.  "I  can  get  ten  times  as  many  partners  as 
I  need.  Everybody  knows  what  an  expert 
worker  I  am." 

"God  grant  it!"  answered  the  mother,  doubt- 
fully. She  had  little  confidence  in  Drabkin. 
But  Chashke's  heart  was  eased  of  a  burden. 
She  believed  that  it  would  be  easy  for  him  to 
find  a  partner. 

He,  however,  found  something  that  he  was 
not  seeking.     He  found  a  bride  with  a  dowry. 

This  happened  just  at  the  time  when  he  was 
tiring  of  looking  about  for  a  partner.    He  was 


iQo  TEMPTATIONS 

pouring  out  the  bitterness  of  his  heart  before 
an  old  friend. 

"Enough!  I've  got  the  right  partner  for 
youl"  cried  the  friend.  "And  a  partner  for 
your  whole  life." 

Drabkin  looked  hard  at  him. 

"Do  you  want  to  marry  a  girl  with  five  hun- 
dred roubles?" 

Drabkin's  heart  sank  within  him.  To  de- 
scend to  mere  matchmaking!  Five  hundred 
roubles!  Suddenly  before  his  eyes  appeared 
the  vision  of  Chashke. 

"The  people  I'm  talking  about  are  very 
anxious  to  have  you,"  his  friend  was  saying. 
"A  perfect  doll  of  a  girl!  And  clever  at  her 
trade, — one  out  of  a  thousand.  .  .  .  Hush, 
she's  a  pocketbook  maker,  just  like  yourself." 

Drabkin  was  still  unable  to  realise  what  it 
was  all  about,  and  the  image  of  Chashke  con- 
tinued to  hover  before  his  eyes. 

"They're  very  anxious  to  have  you,"  re- 
peated his  friend.  "It  seems  to  me  that  the 
girl  is  head  over  heels  in  love  with  you.     She 


i. 


& 


DRABKIN  191 

knows  you  for  a  long  time.  I  believe  she  used 
to  work  with  you.  Well,  are  you  willing?  Just 
say  the  word  and  one,  two, — it's  done.  I  won't 
ask  you  for  any  marriage-broker's  fee.  I'll  ask 
only  the  honour  of  leading  you  under  the  can- 
opy.    Well?" 

"A  match?"  was  all  Drabkin  could  stammer. 
"I'll  not  listen  to  the  idea!   .  .   ." 

"What?  Don't  you  ever  intend  to  marry?" 
interrupted  the  other,  with  scorn.  "Are  you 
going  to  enter  a  monastery?  Don't  be  a  fool, 
and  listen  to  good  advice.  Five  hundred 
roubles  dowry,  and  you  become  a  boss,  with  a 
wife  that'll  be  a  true  help  to  you.  Don't  waste 
a  moment  thinking  it  over!  ...  As  true  as 
I'm  a  Jew,  you'll  just  have  to  marry  that  girl!" 

His  friend  was  getting  excited.  He  divulged 
the  name  of  the  prospective  father-in-law, — 
Grunim  the  glazier — and  that  of  the  girl — 
Chyenke,  a  maiden  of  golden  virtues,  so  beau- 
tiful that  Drabkin,  compared  with  her,  would 
have  to  hide  in  the  oven, — and  smart?  A  ques- 
tion!   Just  like  Bileam!    As  decent  as  God  has 


192  TEMPTATIONS 

ordained, — a  virtuous  child,  "so  may  I  have 
good  fortune!" 

His  friend  wrought  with  might  and  main, — 
argued,  vociferated,  screamed,  bellowed,  thun- 
dered,— and  finally  Drabkin  had  to  adjourn 
with  him  to  a  tavern  and  treat  to  drinks.  And 
after  the  first  three  glasses  the  friend  ran  off 
to  the  girl's  father. 

"You'll  thank  me  as  long  as  you  live!"  was 
his  farewell  to  Drabkin. 

Left  to  himself,  Drabkin  began  to  feel  that 
the  match  was  really  a  windfall.  Five  hundred 
roubles !  He — with  five  hundred  roubles !  He 
would  work  miracles,  overturn  worlds,  he — 
with  five  hundred  roubles!  .  .  . 

And  he  really  knew  her.  His  friend  had  not 
told  many  lies.  She  wasn't  such  a  marvel,  but 
at  the  same  time  girls  like  her  were  not  to  be 
found  at  every  turn.  Oh  yes, — he  recalled  her 
perfectly.  She  was  a  trifle  taller  than  Chashke, 
— a  bit  plumper,  too,  he  imagined.  ...  A 
blonde.  .  .  .  She  must  be  quite  a  lively  article, 
too  ...  a  fiery  creature. 


•      •      • 


DK^BKIN  193 

Five  hundred  roubles!  Why,  to  him  that 
meant  .  .  .  unlimited  possibilities!  .  .  .  Five 
hundred  roubles.  .  .  .  Imagine,  he  would  .  .  . 
H'm !  .  .  . 

He  couldn't  recall  exactly,  but  it  seemed  to 
him  that  she  was  very  skilful  at  her  work.  Now 
wait, — at  whose  place  was  It  that  she  and  he 
had  worked  together? 

He  shut  his  eyes  and  tried  to  remember. 
Was  It  at  Abraham  Baer's?  Or  at  ...  at  ..  . 
Where  the  devil  had  they  worked  together? 
.  .  .  No,  he  could  not  recall  it.  But  he  re- 
called distinctly  that  she  was  a  good  pocket- 
book-maker.  And  once  she  came  Into  his  hands 
he'd  make  an  expert  of  her. 

Chashke's  figure  still  kept  looming  before 
him,  yet  he  imagined  that  he  was  thinking  of 
Chyenke  and  beholding  her. 

When  Chashke  came  home  that  evening  he 
at  once  related  the  proposed  match  to  her  and 
asked  her  advice. 

Chashke  turned  pale  and  then  red. 

"Oh,  what  a  terrible  headache  I  have  to- 


194  TEMPTATIONS 

day!"  she  answered,  with  a  quiver  in  her  voice. 

Drabkin  believed  her  headache.  So  did  her 
mother. 

"Probably  choked  with  bad  air,"  murmured 
the  old  woman.  "Over  In  her  shop  they're  all 
afraid  they'll  freeze.  Destruction  seize  them! 
ril  take  the  hot  water  out  of  the  oven  and 
you'll  bathe  your  head  and  feel  better." 

In  this  way  she  poured  out  her  heart  upon 
the  heads  of  Chashke's  employers.  For  her 
heart  was  sorely  embittered :  all  along  she  had 
looked  upon  Drabkin  as  her  Chashke's  future 
husband. 

Chashke  was  silent.  Drabkin  looked  at  her, 
waiting  for  a  reply. 

"Perhaps  you  know  this  Chyenke?"  he  began 
anew.     "They  say  she's  a  splendid  girl." 

"What  should  I  know?  It  looks  like  a  good 
proposition.  Five  hundred  roubles.  And  Chy- 
enke, from  what  I  know  of  her,  is  really  a  splen- 
did girl.    Good  luck  to  you  !" 

Yet  at  the  last  words  her  voice  trembled. 

The  old  woman  spoke  nothing  to  spoil  the 


DRABKIN  195 

match,  and  became  enraged  against  Chyenke 
and  her  five  hundred  roubles, — against  Drab- 
kin,  against  Chashke,  against  herself  and  her 
whole  life  of  poverty.  She  restrained  her  tears 
and  prepared  many  a  complaint  for  the  Lord 
of  the  universe. 

Meanwhile  Drabkin  was  laying  his  plans. 
He  spoke  in  a  merry  mood  and  did  not  notice 
the  grief  about  him. 

He  noticed  it,  however,  a  few  days  later, 
when  he  entered  the  house  in  glee  and  an- 
nounced that  the  betrothal  was  to  take  place 
the  following  day.  Chashke  turned  pale, 
seized  her  breast  and  nearly  swooned.  His 
words  died  on  his  lips:  now  he  understood 
everything. 

"Chashke,  what's  the  matter?"  he  cried,  in 
his  fright,  although  he  knew  very  well  what 
was  the  matter.  He  brought  her  a  glass  of 
water. 

The  old  woman  danced  about  her  daughter 
and  Drabldn  stood  there,  overwhelmed.  Tears 
came  to  his  eyes.     Now,  for  the  first  time,  he 


196  TEMPTATIONS 

understood  why,  in  the  past  few  days,  Chashke 
had  come  so  often  before  his  eyes  when  he  spoke 
of  the  other  girl.  For  the  first  time  he  realised 
whom  he  really  needed. 

He  was  seized  with  an  impulse  to  rush  over 
to  Chashke,  embrace  her,  throw  his  arms  about 
her  neck,  kiss  her,  and  swear  to  her  that  he 
would  marry  only  her.  .  .   . 

He  dashed  into  his  room  in  distraction,  pale, 
agitated. 

"What  madness  has  possessed  him?"  asked 
the  old  woman  angrily. 

And  Chashke  began  to  weep  even  more  bit- 
terly, and  pressed  her  breast  harder  than  ever. 


i 


V 

DRABKIN'S  wedding  was  postponed  for 
half  a  year,  but  the  dowry  of  five  hun- 
dred roubles  was  at  once  placed  into  his  hands, 
that  he  might  open  a  shop  immediately.  For  he 
was  known  by  all  to  be  an  honourable  man. 

He  bought  a  sewing-machine,  shears,  knives; 
wooden  pliers  he  made  himself;  and  together 
with  his  future  wife  he  sat  down  to  work.  The 
shop,  naturally,  was  in  her  name. 

He  was  submerged  with  orders. 

He  became  a  new  man, — jollier,  livelier, 
more  enthusiastic.  He  attacked  his  work  ar- 
duously. 

It  seemed  that  he  wanted  to  pile  up  more  and 
more  money. 

He  felt  a  sensation  that  he  had  never  before 

experienced.    He  had  money!    He  had  money! 

He  was  a  boss  for  himself !    Often  he  would  get 

197 


198  TEMPTATIONS 

a  ticklish  feeling,  and  he  would  smile  happily 
and  begin  to  hum  a  tune.  He  was  superlatively 
happy.  He  made  plans — the  dowry  would 
grow,  he  would  accumulate  heaps  of  money, 
he  would  accomplish  miracles !   .   .  . 

"Fll  show  them!"  he  would  shout,  triumph- 
antly, to  nobody  In  particular,  pushing  the 
treadle  of  his  machine  vigorously  as  he  sewed 
away. 

"Show  whom?"  asked  his  fiancee,  after  he 
had  shouted  his  defiance  for  the  tenth  time. 

"Everybody!"  he  replied.  "They'll  hear 
from  me!" 

And  then  he  would  fall  to  explaining  just 
how  he  would  "show  them." 

A  single  cloud,  however,  darkened  his  bright 
sky:  he  longed  for  Chashke.  Chashke  was  lack- 
ing. 

He  would  blink,  screw  up  his  eyes  as  he 
smeared  a  thread  with  pitch,  and  gaze  at  his 
betrothed,  but  all  the  time  he  would  be  think- 
ing of  Chashke,  comparing  her  with  his  affi- 
anced. 


DRABKIN  199 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that?"  Chy- 
enke  would  ask  with  a  smile. 

But  he  would  make  no  reply,  continuing  to 
smear  his  thread  with  pitch. 

"Haven't  you  ever  seen  me  before?  Do 
you  want  to  see  whether  you've  made  a  mistake 
in  choosing  me?"  she  would  continue,  throwing 
her  work  aside  and  placing  her  arms  about  his 
neck. 

But  he  remained  silent.  He  stuck  the  thread 
through  the  eye  of  the  needle  and  began  to  sew. 
He  felt  that  this  woman  beside  him  was  a  stran- 
ger,— that  he  did  not  even  know  her. 

"Are  you  angry  with  me?"  asked  the  stran- 
ger, releasing  his  head  and  ready  to  become  an- 
gry herself. 

"Why  angry?"  he  replied,  looking  Intently 
upon  the  pocketbook  as  he  pierced  it  with  the. 
needle.  "I  looked  at  you.  Is  it  forbidden  me 
to  look  at  you?" 

He  would  step  often  into  Chashke's,  if  only 
for  a  few  moments.     And  for  even  these  few 


200  TEMPTATIONS 

moments  they  both  felt  heavy  at  heart.     Both 
stood  there  with  tears  In  their  eyes. 

When  Drabkin  would  come  for  a  visit,  the 
old  woman  would  go  off  into  the  kitchen,  mut- 
tering to  herself  and  wrinkling  her  brow. 
There  she  would  sit  down  before  a  dingy  little 
lamp,  beginning  to  darn  a  stocking  and  staring 
into  the  semi-gloom,  lost  in  thought  of  her 
foolish,  unfortunate  daughter. 

Drabkin,  at  such  times,  would  stand  by  the 
window  and  write  upon  the  panes  with  his  fin- 
gers, or  gaze  vacantly  before  him,  waiting  for 
Chashke  to  speak. 

And  Chashke  sat  bent  over  her  work,  and 
something  tugged,  tugged  away  at  her  heart-  * 

strings. 

She  was  waging  a  tremendous  battle.  She 
wished  to  forget  everything.  All  was  over! 
Too  late!  It  was  so  decreed  by  Fate!  Yet  a 
frightful,  poignant  yearning  held  her  in  Its  grip.  ; 

And  In  the  solitude  of  night  she  would  moisten  v 

the  pillow  with  hot  tears  that  rolled  slowly 
down  her  cheeks.     And  often  it  would  seem  to 


DRABKIN  201 

her  that  there  would  come  a  day, — who  knew 
in  how  many  years  around? — when  he  would 
come  falling  at  her  feet  and  .  .  .  Ah,  she  had 
never  thought  the  matter  out  to  its  con- 
clusion. .  .  . 

But  he  must  not  learn  of  her  sufferings! 

And  Chashke  would  take  courage,  breathe 
more  easily,  and  be  the  first  to  speak. 

"How  are  you  getting  along?  Plenty  of 
work?" 

Yes.  On  this  topic  he  could  find  ever  so 
much  to  say.  But  he  felt  sad  at  heart.  He  then 
replied  in  a  nasal  tone,  "Nothing  to  complain. 
Work  is  the  least  of  my  worries." 

"For  whom  are  you  making  purses  now?" 
she  asked,  ignoring  his  last  words. 

"For  Etkin,"  he  replied,  curtly,  as  if  angry 
that  she  should  harp  on  that  theme. 

But  no,  he  must  really  tell  her  how,  from  his 
own  former  employer,  Mayshe  Baruch,  he  had 
won  away  as  a  customer  the  shopkeeper  Etkin. 
That  was  certainly  interesting.  And  gradually 
he  became  engrossed  in  his  talk  and  warmed 


202  TEMPTATIONS 

to  his  subject,  telling  how  he  had  brought  a 
piece  of  his  work  Into  Etkin's  and  how  every- 
body had  viewed  it  with  delight.  And  at  once 
he  received  a  big  order  for  more.  And 
Mayshe  Baruch  had  met  him  and  tried  to  in- 
timidate him  by  threatening  to  slap  his  face. 
Ha-ha-ha,  he  had  found  the  right  one  to  scare! 
No  sirree !  He'd  show  Mayshe !  He  would 
go  in  to  Brzerzinski,  for  whom  Mayshe  Baruch 
did  work,  and  let  Mayshe  try  to  do  something 
to  him!  Aha!  He'd  put  Mayshe  Baruch  out 
of  business  in  a  jiffy.  .  .  .  And  he  was  even 
considering  going  in  to  Abraham  Baer's  custom- 
ers. He  had  a  score  to  settle  with  Abraham 
Baer.  He  knew  all  his  customers,  even  those 
from  out  of  town,  and  he  would  send  quota- 
tions for  work  to  all  of  them.  .  .  .  He'd  show 
them!  .  .  .  He'd  lead  the  bosses  a  merry 
dance ! 

Chashke  listened  with  delight.  But  a  single 
question  weighed  upon  her  heavily;  she  could 
not  repress  It.    She  lowered  her  head  over  her 


DRABKIN  203 

work  and  asked,  with  a  stifled  voice,  "How  is 
your  Chyenke?" 

He  interrupted  his  account  and  suddenly  be- 
came sad  once  more. 

"How  should  she  be?    She  works." 

And  again  he  stared  vacantly  through  the 
window.  She  remained  bent  over  her  work, 
without  raising  her  eyes.  And  soon  they  parted, 
with  hearts  as  heavy  as  stone.  .  .  . 

But  later  he  became  so  engrossed  in  his  work 
that  he  forgot  the  burden  of  his  heart.  He 
grew  accustomed  to  Chyenke  and  became  more 
talkative.  And  once  he  began  to  tell  her  how 
he  used  to  quarrel  with  his  employers  and  get 
the  best  of  them.  She  laughed.  Yes,  she  knew 
all  about  him  and  his  pranks. 

"I  never  spoke  a  pleasant  word  to  any  of 
them.  Not  even  with  the  best  of  them,"  he  told 
her.     "I  always  showed  them  my  claws." 

"I'll  tell  yow  the  truth,"  she  asserted,  with  a 
serious  mien.  "If  I  had  been  your  employer  I 
wouldn't  have  let  you  darken  my  door.  Even 
if  I  knew  that  I'd  make  millions  from  you." 


204  TEMPTATIONS 

He  made  no  reply,  working  the  treadle 
faster  than  before,  and  waiting  for  Chyenke  to 
continue. 

"It  won't  be  like  that  in  our  shop,"  she  added. 

"Certainly  not,"  he  hastened  to  agree. 
"We'll  deal  differently  with  our  employes." 

"Differently  or  not  differently,"  she  replied, 
"if  anybody  tries  such  tricks  with  us,  we'll  take 
him  by  the  collar  right  away  and  down  the 
stairs  he  goes !" 

"That's  merely  what  you  say.  .  .  ." 

"And  that's  exactly  how  it'll  be,"  she  an- 
swered with  the  same  gravity  as  before.  "If 
I'm  a  boss,  then  I  must  be  a  boss.  I  know. 
I've  worked  for  bosses,  too,  and  have  quarrelled 
with  them.  And  you  may  be  sure  that  they 
were  In  the  wrong.  But  to  fight  just  for  the 
fun  of  It!     I'd  like  to  see  them  try  it!" 

"It  couldn't  happen  In  our  place,"  he  said. 
"I'll  yield  to  them  In  everything." 

"What  do  you  mean,  yield  to  them  In  every- 
thing?"   Her  voice  rose  slightly.    "Bah!    Not 


DRABKIN  205 

even  a  hair's  breadth!  Why  should  I  treat 
people  better  than  I  myself  was  treated?" 

Drabkin  turned  pale.     His  hand  trembled. 

"We'll  see  about  that,"  he  answered  weakly. 
He  restrained  himself,  but  his  blood  was  boil- 
ing. 

"What  shall  we  see,  what?"  asked  Chyenke. 
"I  certainly  won't  treat  my  employes  any  bet- 
ter than  I  was  treated.  Why  should  I  give  in  to 
them?    Let  them  walk  all  over  me?" 

He  was  silent.  He  was  already  infuriated, 
but  strove  to  choke  back  his  words.  He  applied 
himself  industriously  to  his  work  and  did  not 
utter  another  sound,  although  it  was  a  long 
time  before  Chyenke  stopped  talking.   .   .   . 

That  night  he  ran  to  Chashke.  He  repeated 
the  conversation  to  her. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  such  talk?"  he  cried,  as 
he  finished  his  story. 

"Chyenke  is  as  right  as  the  day,"  interposed 
the  old  woman. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  such  talk?"  he  repeated, 
looking  into  Chashke's  eyes. 


2o6  TEMPTATIONS 

*'Well?"  she  queried,  coldly. 

"What  do  you  mean,  'Well?'  "  he  shouted. 
"What  do  you  mean  by  your  'Well?'  " 

"What  do  you  expect?  Everybody  to  agree 
with  you?" 

"What  do  you  mean,  everybody  to  agree  with 
me?  What  do  you  mean?"  he  gesticulated. 
"Isn't  she  engaged  to  me?" 

"But  you  each  have  minds  of  your  own  and 
hearts  of  your  own,"  replied  Chashke. 

"He'd  like  his  betrothed  to  be  as  stupid  as 
himself,"  the  old  woman  chimed  in. 

"But  why?  How  comes  it  that  you  under- 
stand?" he  insisted  to  Chashke. 

"She  always  was  a  big  fool,"  the  mother  re- 
plied. But  the  daughter  blushed,  and  was  si- 
lent. 

"Then  why  shouldn't  she?"  persisted  Drab- 
kin,  referring  to  his  betrothed. 

"Well "  interrupted  Chashke. 

He  was  at  a  loss  for  a  plausible  response. 

"Well,  speak,  what  is  it  you  wish?" 


DRABKIN  207 

"What  should  I  wish?  I  don't  wish  any- 
thing," he  snarled  indignantly. 

He  left  the  house  in  silent  anger.  He  had 
wanted  her  to  help  him  feel  angry,  to  be  beside 
himself  with  rage  as  usual.   ... 

The  following  day  he  tried  again  to  talk  the 
matter  over  with  Chyenke,  but  she  merely  re- 
peated her  opinions  of  yesterday. 

"Then  I  tell  you,"  he  exclaimed,  concisely 
and  firmly,  "that  our  employes  shall  be  treated 
as  /  see  fit!" 

"And  I  tell  you,"  interjected  Chyenke,  "that 
in  the  first  place  we  haven't  any  employes,  nor 
are  we  hiring  any.  And  in  the  second  place, 
they'll  be  treated  as  /  think  proper!" 

"We  shall  see!" 

''We  shall  seeV 

He  became  angry,  she  became  angry,  and 
they  did  not  speak  to  each  other  for  the  rest  of 
that  day. 

"If  that's  the  kind  of  a  fellow  he  is,"  she 
thought,  "then  he's  not  going  to  have  the  say 
about  the  money." 


2o8  TEMPTATIONS 

He  sat  there  as  if  on  pins  and  needles.  He 
was  in  a  rage;  his  blood  was  boiling.  He 
wanted  to  spring  up,  spit  out  with  scorn  and 
break  with  Chyenke  for  good.  But  something 
restrained  him.  That  "something"  did  not 
permit  him  to  carry  out  what  he  yearned  so 
strongly  to  do.  That  "something"  held  him 
riveted  to  the  spot  and  dammed  his  anger.  And 
that  "something"  was  not  very  clear  to  him. 
He  only  felt  it  strongly;  it  sent  a  warmth 
through  his  whole  body.  .  .  .  Just  through  his 
inside  pocket.   .   .   . 

"Well,  well.  We'll  see,"  he  thought.  "After 
the  wedding  it'll  be  a  different  story." 

When  they  separated  at  the  end  of  that  day 
Chyenke  said  to  him,  "Well,  now  run  ofF  to 
your  Chashke  and  fill  her  ears  with  complaints 
against  me." 

"If  I  want  to  run  to  her,  I  won't  ask  you." 

Chyenke  had  resolved  to  put  an  end  to  his 
visits  to  Chashke.  If  he  cared  more  for 
Chashke,  then  let  him  take  her.  She  could 
afford  to  have  a  sweetheart  all  her  own. 


DRABKIN  209 

But  she  desired  to  raise  no  scandals  before 
the  wedding.  After  their  marriage  she  would 
know  how  to  wean  him  away  from  Chashke's, 
and  how  to  keep  her  from  ever  crossing  their 
threshold.  .   .  . 

But  Drabkin  seemed  to  have  lost  all  desire 
to  go  to  Chashke.  He  did  not  go  to  her  that 
evening,  nor  the  next.  Why  should  he?  He 
was  angry  with  her. 


VI 

CHYENKE  and  her  parents  were  in  glee 
at  the  wedding,  for  her  dowry  of  five 
hundred  roubles  had  in  the  meantime  increased 
to  seven  hundred.  Chyenke  felt  like  a  wealthy 
woman,  and  her  parents  congratulated  them- 
selves upon  being  the  father  and  mother  of  a 
rich  lady. 

Drabkin,  however,  was  not  in  good  humour. 
A  certain  fear  hovered  over  him.  After  the 
wedding  he  foresaw  war.   .  .   . 

And  surely  enough,  five  months  later  the  war 
began.  They  had  decided  to  go  into  manufac- 
turing their  own  goods,  without  waiting  for 
work  to  be  brought  in  to  them  from  the  shops. 
This  would  require  an  independent  establish- 
ment with  a  number  of  employes. 

He  had  seen  several  workingmen,  old  friends 
and  former  shopmates. 

210 


DRABKIN 


211 


"What  do  you  say,  boys?  Will  you  come  to 
work  for  me?" 

"You  don't  say,  Drabkin !  So  you're  really 
becoming  a  boss?" 

"Listen  to  him.  He  doesn't  lef  the  grass 
grow  under  his  feet!" 

'Well.    Will  you  work  for  me?" 
'Why  not?    You'll  pay  wages  twice  as  high 
as  the   regular   rate,   of  course,"   laughed   the 
workingmen. 

"You  don't  have  to  worry  about  such  matters 
when  you  deal  with  me,"  he  assured  them,  at 
the  same  time  thinking  of  his  wife. 

"You'll  really  pay  twice  the  regular  wages?" 

"I  told  you  not  to  worry  about  that,  you 
blockheads!  You'll  get  higher  pay  from  me 
than  from  anybody  else,  and  you'll  work  con- 
siderably less." 

They  all  parted  in  great  contentment.  And 
Drabkin  told  himself  that  he  had  won  a  victory 
over  his  wife  after  all.   .   .   . 

"To-morrow  four  operators  will  come  here," 
he  announced  to  Chyenke  when  he  came  home 


212  TEMPTATIONS 

that  night.  And  he  began  to  recite  their  names. 
"Abraham,  who  used  to  work  for  Abraham 
Baer;  Labke,  who.  .  .  ." 

"What  are  you  going  to  pay  them?"  she  in- 
terrupted, scrutinising  him  closely  from  under 
her  furrowed  brows. 

He  was  silent.  He  wondered  what  figure 
he  could  name. 

"Why  don't  you  speak?"  she  asked,  more 
sternly  than  before,  eyeing  him  more  closely. 

Suddenly  he  became  bold  and  self-assertive. 
Why  need  he  fear  her?  He'd  tell  her  point- 
blank!  And  if  she  didn't  like  it,  she'd  have 
to  .  .  .  that's  all !  With  a  smiling  countenance 
he  repeated  the  details  of  his  arrangements  with 
the  workingmen. 

"May  evil  dreams  descend  upon  the  heads 
of  all  my  enemies,"  she  shrieked,  slapping  her 
palms  indignantly  together.  "Are  you  drunk, 
or  crazy?  There's  a  millionaire  for  you! 
What's  a  few  hundred  roubles  to  you?  Here! 
Take  my  dowry  and  give  it  away!  .  .  ." 

"You  don't  like  it?     Then  don't!"  he  an- 


DRABKIN  213 

swered  gruffly.  "I  refuse  to  be  like  the  rest  of 
them.     I  will  not  be  a  cut-purse!" 

"Look  at  him! — A  cut-purse!"  she  snarled 
venomously.  "Fine  business  man  you  are! 
Am  I,  a  proprietor,  and  now  with  child,  to  work 
fourteen  and  fifteen  hours  a  day,  and  have  my 
own  employes  go  around  in  my  place  like  men 
of  leisure?  My  enemies  won't  live  to  see  it! 
May  they  waste  in  illness  as  long  as  such  a 
thing  never  was  and  never  will  be!"  .  .  . 

"I've  already  told  you,"  he  interrupted  in- 
cisively, "if  you  don't  like  it,  then  don't!" 

"What  kind  of  words  are  those!"  she 
screamed.  "I'll  have  you  understand  that 
meanwhile  /  am  the  boss,  and  the  money  is 
mine!  .  .  .  Did  you  bring  such  a  pile  to  it? 
Then  things  will  be  as  I  wish  them  to  be.  You'll 
see  whether  they  work  for  me  or  not.  What 
do  you  think  of  the  fellow?  Wants  to  be  a 
public  benefactor!    H'm!" 

"Listen  to  me,  Chyenke.  None  of  your 
tricks,  now!" 

"None  of  your  tricks !     What  are  you  going 


214  TEMPTATIONS 

to  do  about  it?  Beat  me?  I'm  not  afraid  of 
such  trifles !  .  .  ."  She  was  now  shrieking 
shrilly. 

He  looked  at  her  angrily  and  gnashed  his 
teeth. 

Suddenly  she  threw  on  her  coat  and  ran  off 
to  her  parents.  .  .  . 

An  hour  later,  her  father,  her  mother,  her 
father's  brother  Jonah  the  tailor,  and  her 
mother's  brother  Jehiel  the  cobbler,  stalked  into 
the  room,  preceded  by  Chyenke,  whose  face 
shone  with  triumph.  Drabkin  greeted  them 
with  none  too  happy  a  countenance,  and  contin- 
ued his  work  at  the  machine. 

"What's  the  trouble  here  between  you?"  be- 
gan Grunim  the  glazier. 

"What  are  you  so  angry  about?"  asked  his 
mother-in-law,  venomously.  "I  suppose  you 
imagine  you're  in  the  right?" 

"I'm  not  asking  anybody  whether  I'm  right 
or  wrong,"  he  replied,  even  more  venomously. 

"A  fine  answer!"  responded  the  mother-in- 
law,  indignantly. 


DRABKIN  215 

"It's  good  enough  for  me,"  said  Drabkin, 
pushing  the  treadle. 

"Just  the  same  you  needn't  be  impudent  about 
it,"  interposed  Grunim,  beginning  to  lose  his 
temper. 

But  Chyenke  interceded  and  prevented  a 
quarrel. 

"Just  reckon  it  out  for  him.  Reckon  it  out," 
she  said,  turning  to  her  Uncle  Jonah.  "Let  him 
hear." 

"Drop  your  work,"  suggested  Uncle  Jehlel, 
"and  listen  to  reason." 

"I've  got  nothing  to  listen  to." 

"Don't  be  a  child!" 

"What  is  there  to  discuss,  what?"  He  rose 
from  his  place.  "I  said  once  and  for  all  that 
I  refuse  to  be  a  cut-purse." 

"You  talk  like  a  child,"  began  Uncle  Jonah. 
"I'm  no  cut-purse  myself,  and  I  get  along  first 
rate  with  my  employes!  But  everything  must 
be  done  with  foresight,  with  a  reckoning!  You, 
my  dear  child, — you,"  he  began,  falling  into  the 
sing-song   intonation   of  the   Gemara,   "you're 


2i6  TEMPTATIONS 

starting  out  as  a  manufacturer, — you're  a  new 
competitor  In  the  market.  Then  you  must  try 
to  sell  your  goods  cheaper.  But  how  are  you 
going  to  do  this  when  your  labour  is  going  to 
cost  you  more  than  it  costs  anybody  else?"  he 
ended,  Ironically,  his  arms  akimbo,  looking 
from  face  to  face  with  an  air  of  triumph. 

"I  know  the  reckoning!"  retorted  Drabkin, 
obstinately. 

"No,  you  don't!"  shouted  the  tailor,  waving 
his  right  hand  in  the  air  and  then  bringing  it 
back  to  his  hips.  "You  don't  know!  If  you 
did,  you  wouldn't  do  as  you  wish  to  do!  .  .  . 
Let  me  repeat  It  to  you,  my  youngster, 
you  .  .  ."  and  again  he  lapsed  into  the  Tal- 
mudlc  sing-song — "Wages  will  cost  you  prac- 
tically twice  as  much  as  any  other,  and  your 
worklngmen  will  produce  half  as  much  per  day 
as  in  any  other  shop.  Well,  where's  your 
brains?  Your  goods  will  cost  four  times  as 
dear!  .  .  .  Who's  going  to  buy  it  of  you?  Is 
it  going  to  be  covered  with  spangles?" 


DRABKIN  217 

"I  tell  you,  I  don't  care  to  hear  any  reckon- 
ings!" cried  Drabkin. 

"Then  you're  a  fool,  a  jackass,  a  simpleton!" 
replied  Jonah,  heatedly. 

"It's  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  see  such  a  per- 
son!" asserted  Jehiel,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"Shut  up.  It's  no  worry  of  yours,"  scowled 
Drabkin.     "I'll  do  exactly  as  I  please." 

"What  do  you  mean, — exactly  as  you 
please?"  shrilled  Grunim.  "You're  not  the  boss 
yet.     Meanwhile  Chyenke  has  the  say  here!" 

"Certainly!"  corroborated  the  mother-in- 
law. 

"Certainly!"  echoed  Chyenke. 

"And  you're  an  impudent  rascal,  a  loafer!" 
scolded  Grunim. 

**A  know-nothing,  a  dunce,  who  doesn't  un- 
derstand from  here  to  there,"  cried  Jonah. 
"The  goods  will  cost  him.  .  .  ." 

"He  ought  to  be  put  into  the  insane  asylum 
with  all  the  other  lunatics!"  chimed  Jehiel, 
falling  into  Jonah's  sing-song. 


2i8  TEMPTATIONS 

"Fine  pleasure  we've  lived  to  enjoy!"  grum- 
bled the  mother-in-law  to  herself. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  fellow!"  cried 
Chyenke,  casting  a  venomous  glance  in  Drab- 
kin's  direction.     "A  public  benefactor!" 

Drabkin  seized  his  coat  and  dashed  through 
the  door. 


VII 

HE  ran  to  Chashke. 
He  was  terribly  pale,  and  Chashke  and 
her  mother  were  frightened  when  he  entered. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  cried  Chashke. 

He  threw  himself  upon  the  wooden  lounge, 
lowered  his  head  and  was  silent.  Both  women 
stared  at  him. 

"Is  your  tongue  paralysed?"  asked  the  old 
woman,  finally  breaking  the  silence. 

"What's  happened  over  at  your  place? 
Speak,  man,"  entreated  Chashke. 

"What  should  happen?"  he  asked  angrily. 
"It  happened!  My  wife  is  no  better  than  the 
rest!  She'd  liks  to  run  everything.  Everything!" 

He  recounted  all  that  had  taken  place  in  his 
home. 

"His  wife  is  a  wise  woman,  upon  my  word," 
offered  the  old  woman  after  hearing  the  story. 

But    Drabkin    was    anxious   to    know    what 

Chashke  thought. 

219 


220  TEMPTATIONS 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  reckoning?" 
he  asked,  eyeing  her  intently. 

"I  never  studied  mathematics " 

He  made  a  gesture  of  impatience,  and  she 
added, — "but  I  believe  that  the  figures  are  cor- 
rect" 

"And  suppose  they  are  correct, — then 
what?" 

He  was  growing  angry. 

"What  do  I  know?"  replied  Chashke,  coldly. 
"If  they  are  correct,  then  from  the  looks  of 
things,  matters  can't  be  otherwise." 

"What  do  you  mean, — 'can't  be  otherwise?' 
Am  I,  then,  to  do  just  like  all  the  other  bosses?" 

"Who's  telling  you  to  become  a  boss?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

"Well,  what  are  you  staring  at?  Keep  on 
working  as  you've  done  up  to  now.  Don't  take 
it  into  your  head  to  run  a  factory.   .  .   ." 

"There's  talk  for  you !" 

"Certainly!" 

Seething  with  fury,  he  left  Chashke. 

Such  Ideas  she  could  take  into  her  head ! 


VIII 

CHYENKE  knew  that  Drabkin  had  run  off 
to  Chashke,  so  when  he  returned  home 
she  was  ready  to  welcome  him.  "Well?  So 
you've  been  to  your  sweetheart,  have  you?" 

But  his  countenance  was  so  dark  and  sinister 
that  she  began  to  doubt  whether  he  really  had 
been  to  Chashke.  If  he  had  been  there,  she 
thought,  he  had  probably  met  with  a  frigid  re- 
ception. And  if  this  was  so,  she  was  sure  he 
would  talk  otherwise  now. 

She  cautioned  him  sternly  not  to  make  any 
scenes  and  not  to  give  cause  for  tongue-wagging 
and  people's  laughter. 

"What  a  madness  to  fall  into  a  man's  head! 
Why,  folks  would  run  after  us  in  the  street! 
Really!  Who?  What?  When?  To  go 
simply  crazy  and  slave  away  for  our  employes ! 
Then  what  do  I  need  the  whole  business  for?  I 
may  as  well  not  run  a  factory  altogether!" 

221 


222  TEMPTATIONS 

The  last  words  recalled  to  his  mind  Chash- 
ke's  advice.  Only — that  was  sheer  nonsense. 
.  .  .  Neither  of  the  women  knew  what  she  was 
talking  about.  He  would  do  as  he  pleased. 
He  would  ask  advice  of  nobody. 

Chyenke  continued: 

"To-morrow,  you  tell  your  workingmen  that 
if  they're  willing  to  work  under  the  same  con- 
ditions as  they've  known  hitherto,  they  may 
come  here  ready  for  business.  If  not,  let  them 
be  off  in  the  best  of  health.  We  don't  need 
them.  Such  bargains  may  be  picked  up  any 
day!" 

"I'm  not  asking  you  what  to  tell  them,"  he 
retorted  coldly,  stretching  himself  out  on  the 
sofa. 

Chyenke  scowled  at  him.  She  was  out  of 
breath.  What  could  she  do  now?  Shriek, 
weep,  or  throw  the  shears  she  was  holding  at 
his  head,  or  her  own?  She  threw  the  shears 
upon  the  floor,  sprang  up  from  her  seat  and  be- 
gan to  pace  about  the  room.  She  could  hold 
back  from  shrieking.     She  knew  that  ultimately 


DRABKIN  223 

she  would  win  out.  But  she  felt  an  intense 
desire  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  him  in  some 
way.  She  would  have  been  delighted  to — stick, 
a  few  needles  into  him.  .  .  . 

She  lay  down  on  the  bed.  Her  head  seethed 
with  the  most  confused  thoughts, — how  best  to 
avenge  herself  upon  that  man.  The  first  de- 
cision she  reached  was  to  He  just  as  she  was, 
fully  dressed,  all  night  long  on  the  unmade  bed. 

And  he  lay  in  a  daze,  unable  to  think.  In  his 
dream  he  spoke  and  fought  with  the  whole 
world.  There  came  back  to  him  old,  half-for- 
gotten scenes  of  his  early  life,  scenes  in  the 
various  shops  where  he  had  been  employed, 
Chashke.  .  .  .  "No, — such  ideas  she  could 
take  into  her  head !"  A  vast  shop  appeared  be- 
fore him,  containing  an  army  of  employes,  and 
he  was  the  owner — and  his  heart  began  to 
throb  more  loudly. 

Chyenke  had  long  before  stopped  thinking; 
her  heart,  however,  from  time  to  time,  con- 
tracted with  the  bitterness  of  her  unsated  de- 
sire for  revenge.    She  arose  from  the  bed,  pre- 


224  TEMPTATIONS 

pared  it  for  the  night,  undressed,  and  lay  down 
again.  She  did  not  prepare  his  bed.  But  soon 
it  began  to  annoy  her  that  he  should  lie  as  he 
did  and  not  go  to  sleep. 

"Why  are  you  letting  the  lamp  burn?  Is  oil 
so  cheap?"  she  asked,  in  no  friendly  tones. 

He  did  not  move. 

This  vexed  her  keenly.  Her  heart  was  again 
ready  to  burst,  and  she  burned  with  a  desire 
to  make  him  feel  her  resentment.  But  she 
could  think  of  nothing.  She  turned  her  face  to 
the  wall,  lay  with  eyes  open,  thinking,  thinking 
how  she  would  heap  upon  him  all  the  evil  in 
the  world,  and  how  she  would  contradict  him 
In  every  wish  he  expressed. 

The  next  moment  she  sprang  up  hastily  from 
bed, — ran  over  to  the  table  and  put  out  the 
lamp. 

"Lie  in  darkness!"  she  scowled  sharply, 
crawling  back  into  bed. 

He  did  not  move. 

"What  do  I  care  if  he  lies  there  like  that?" 
she  thought.    "May  he  never  get  up  again  !" 


DRABKIN  225 

Yet  she  was  vexed  to  death. 

She  jumped  up  and  in  the  dark  began  to 
make  his  bed.  She  worked  angrily,  jerking  the 
sheet,  tossing  the  pillow  and  pulling  the  blanket 
violently. 

He  remained  upon  the  sofa  in  the  same  posi- 
tion as  before,  motionless. 

He  lay  in  thought,  thus  taking  his  revenge. 
Aha  !  He  would  not  go  to  bed !  Not  he !  He 
knew  that  she  was  boiling  with  rage.  Let  her 
learn  a  lesson ! 

Was  he,  then,  to  work  like  a  horse  and  yet 
have  no  say  in  the  business,  not  to  be  able  to  do 
as  he  thought  best?  .  .  .  No,  he  was  boss  now, 
and  let  them  all  go  to  perdition !   .  .  . 

But  he  knew  that  Chyenke  would  not  hesi- 
tate to  create  the  most  fearful  scenes,  and  he 
felt  that  he  would  be  unable  to  win  out.  In 
such  a  case  he  would  break  with  Chyenke  alto- 
gether,— get  a  divorce.  His  temples  began  to 
throb  violently  and  his  heart-beats  sounded  like 
hammer-blows.  Let  her  pound  her  head 
against  the  wall  with  her  money,  her  shop  and 


226  TEMPTATIONS 

the  whole  business !  He  would  marry  Chashke 
and  live  the  kind  of  life  he  preferred:  a  quiet, 
peaceful,  honest  existence.  They  loved  each 
other  so !  How  on  earth  had  he  ever  married 
the  other  woman!     Such  folly!  .  .  . 

But  he  was  suddenly  overcome  with  a  feeling 
of  dejection.  His  heart  became  heavy.  Pov- 
erty, Two  corpses  dancing.  Again  he  would 
have  to  become  a  workingman  and  endure  the 
oppression  of  employers.  How  much  did 
Chashke  earn,  anyway?  Next  to  nothing.  And 
the  old  woman  would  be  on  his  hands.  ...  A 
fine  old  lady,  he  must  admit.  And  she  liked 
him.    And  yet  .  .  .  he  sighed  deeply. 

He  already  had  quite  a  sum  of  money.  Al- 
most an  even  thousand  roubles. 

A  strange  warmth  pervaded  his  being. 

He  had  a  good  deal  of  work,  too.  He  could 
really  start  a  large  factory,  and  in  time 

He  fairly  lost  his  breath.  He  really  had  a 
wonderful  opportunity  to  attain  great  wealth, — ■ 
here  was  a  chance  to  work  wonders.  He — with 
such  a  capital  and  a  reputation  like  his,  and  with 


DRABKIN  227 

an  industrious  worker  like  Chyenke.  For  she 
was  truly  a  wonderful  worker.  As  capable  as 
the  strongest  of  men. 

And,  he  must  confess,  she  was  certainly  good- 
looking.  A  genuine  beauty,  far  prettier  than 
when  she  was  a  girl.  Much  better  looking  than 
Chashke.  For  a  fleeting  moment  he  felt  that 
this  thought  insulted  Chashke  and  shamed  him, 
but  his  fatigued  brain  continued  to  think  con- 
fusedly. 

Chyenke  loved  him,  too, — ever  so  much. 
Despite  everything  she  had  made  his  bed! 
Ha-ha-ha !  .  .  . 

And  to  tell  the  truth,  all  of  them  were  right. 
"You  child,  you,  wages  will  cost  you  practically 
twice  as  much  as  another,  and  your  men  will  ac- 
complish during  the  day  only  half  as  much  as 
elsewhere!  Well,  smarty!  .  .  .  Then  your 
goods  will  cost  you  four  times  as  much,  .  .  ." 
Uncle  Jonah's  words  and  the  Gemara  sing-song 
echoed  in  his  ears.  Yet  somehow  or  other  he 
could  not  grasp  the  figures.    Just  why  would  his 


228  TEMPTATIONS 

goods  cost  him  four  times  as  much,  rather  than 
twice? 

"But  it  seems  to  me  the  reckoning  is  correct," 
Chashke's  words  returned  to  him. 

He  would  try  to  figure  it  out  for  himself. 
He  concentrated  his  mind.  Their  wages  would 
be  .  .  .  no,  not  twice  as  much  as  the  regular 
rate.  He  was  not  so  foolish  as  all  that,  even 
if  he  had  never  learned  accounting.  He  would 
give  them  merely  a  slight  advance  over  current 
wages.  Well, — and  they  would  accomplish, 
during  the  day — why  only  half  as  much?  The 
idea!  Only  half  as  much!  "Well,  smarty! 
Then  your  goods  .  .  ."  echoed  Uncle  Jonah's 
words  once  more.  So  then,  how  much  dearer 
would  his  goods  cost  him?  He  was  anxious  to 
know,  and  furrowed  his  forehead.  .  .  .  "Even 
as  the  shepherd  watches  over  his  flock.  .  .  ." 
A  snatch  of  a  New  Year's  prayer  began  to  hum 
in  his  ears.  But  he  dismissed  the  tune  and  con- 
tinued his  calculations.  His  drowsiness  over- 
came him — he  could  not  figure  it  out. 

**.  .  .  Seems  to  me  the  reckoning  is  correct 


DRABKIN  229 

.  .   ."  came  Chashke's  words  again  to  his  mind. 

He  was  already  falling  asleep,  but  he  ban- 
ished rest.     He  must  think  things  out. 

But  what  could  he  do?  The  reckoning  was 
correct.  "Who's  telling  you  to  become  a  boss  ?" 
'Bah!  "She's  a  big  fool,  is  Chashke.  ...  At 
times  she  speaks  the  most  arrant  nonsense,"  he 
corrected  himself.  He  had  merely  been  a  trifle 
too  hasty  with  his  employes;  he  should  have 
thought  it  over  before  accosting  them.  But  he 
had  made  no  contract  with  them — he  had  sim- 
ply made  a  mistake.  But  just  the  same  they 
would  work  under  the  best  of  conditions.  He 
would  never  speak  a  harsh  word  to  them!   .   .  . 

There.  Now  he  would  go  to  sleep.  The 
rest  of  the  matter  he  would  think  out  the  fol- 
lowing day.  He  would  undress  and  go  to  bed. 
And  should  he  make  up  with  Chyenke  as  he 
passed  her?  He  would  come  quietly  up  to  her, 
embrace  her  and  give  her  a  kiss.  Such  a  beauti- 
ful wifey!  And  so  industrious!  Such  a  fiery 
woman !  Something  drew  him  irresistibly  to- 
wards her.    But  he  controlled  himself.    He  did 


230  TEMPTATIONS 

not  quite  know  what  he  would  do  the  next  day. 
And  again,  he  had  a  strong  feeling  that  he 
need  not  yet  surrender.  .  .  . 

He  became  deeply  depressed.  He  longed 
for  Chyenke.  He  wanted  to  call  her  by  her 
name,  to  go  to  her — and  fell  alseep  upon  the 
sofa  with  the  thought  that  his  employes  would 
work  under  the  very  best  conditions. 

"Ha  !  He  did  it,  just  to  spite  me !  He  lay 
all  night  on  the  sofa!  .  .  .  For  my  part  may 
you  lie  there  forever!" 

These  were  Chyenke's  first  words  when  she 
opened  her  eyes  next  morning  and  beheld  her 
husband  upon  the  sofa. 

Drabkin  was  about  to  reply  with  words  of 
affection.  He  felt  like  playing  with  her.  He 
still  experienced  the  powerful  attraction  of  the 
night  before.  Yet  he  wished  to  remain  angry 
still.  He  simply  could  not  relinquish  the  idea 
that  in  his  shop  the  workers  would  enjoy  en- 
tirely different  conditions.  He  made  no  reply 
to  Chyenke's  words  and  became  sullen. 


DRABKIN  231 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  not  alter  his 
promise  to  the  workingmen,  who  were  to  come 
that  morning.  He  decided  to  leave  the  house, 
so  as  not  to  be  in  when  they  came.  Let  Chyenke 
do  as  she  pleased.  His  hands  would  be  clean. 
He  began  to  feel  a  keen  displeasure  that  things 
should  not  be  as  he  desired,  and  somewhere  in 
the  recesses  of  his  mind  arose  the  thought  that 
he  ought  to  throw  up  the  whole  business.  But 
that  was  a  futile  notion.  The  wisest  thing,  he 
thought,  was  not  to  be  in  when  the  workingmen 
came.    He  dressed  hurriedly  and  left. 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"Where  I  need  to  go." 

But  Chyenke  took  no  offence.  She  under- 
stood his  idea  and  rejoiced. 

"Aha!  My  fine  statesman!"  she  spoke  tri- 
umphantly, shaking  her  head,  after  he  had  shut 
the  door  behind  him. 

Soon  the  workingmen  arrived  one  after  the 
other.  Chyenke  held  herself  somewhat  aloof, 
not  even  looking  at  them  and  feigning  to  search 
for  something. 


232  TEMPTATIONS 

"Where  Is  Drabkin?" 

"Gone  out!"  she  mumbled  in  reply.  "What 
is  it?" 

"We've  come  ready  to  work.  He  hired  us. 
Didn't  he  tell  you  anything  about  it?" 

"You've  come  ready  to  work?"  she  suddenly 
scowled,  raising  her  voice  and  filling  it  with  all 
the  venom  of  her  anger.  "Fine  folks  you  are ! 
I  tell  you !  Found  a  fool  and  ....  What  do 
you  think?  Found  an  easy-mark,  didn't  you? 
You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves  even  to 
mention  such  conditions.  Why,  it's  downright 
robbery!  What  do  you  take  us  for, — million- 
aires? Do  you  think  we're  rolling  in  roubles? 
Where  are  we  going  to  get  the  money  to  pay 
you  such  wages?"  .  .  .  She  was  now  scream- 
ing. "They  found  a  fool  and  turned  his  head ! 
With  him  everything  is  right.  Whatever  you 
tell  him,  he  lets  you  have  your  way.  If  another 
fellow  happened  along  at  the  same  time  and 
told  him  to  give  away  all  he  had,  he  would  have 
done  so.  Does  he  stop  to  consider?  Does  he 
care  a  jot?     You  were  foolish  not  to  ask  him 


DRABKIN  233 

four  times  as  much  as  you  did,  as  wages  for 
sitting  in  his  shop  and  looking  at  him!  .  .  . 
Bah!    Upon  my  word!   .   .   ." 

"What's  all  this  screeching  about?"  asked 
one  of  the  men  with  an  ironic  smile.  "You 
don't  want  us?  You  don't  have  to!  We've 
had  work  up  to  now  and  we  won't  go  around 
idle  now.  We  didn't  come  asking  him  for 
work,  either.    He  came  to  us!  .  .  ." 

"Suppose  he  did !  Is  that  any  reason  for  try- 
ing to  skin  him?"  replied  Chyenke  indignantly. 
"You  came  to  the  right  place.  ...  Do  you 
think  you've  got  another  fool  here?" 

"If  we're  given,  why  shouldn't  we  take?" 

"That's  just  the  trouble.  You  struck  a  fool. 
But,  thank  Heaven,  I've  a  little  say  in  the  mat- 
ter. If  you're  willing  to  work  at  regular  rates 
then  you  may  start  in  at  once.  If  not,  suit  your- 
selves— I'll  find  plenty  of  hands." 

"We  know  nothing  about  all  this,"  insisted 
the  men.     "Drabkin  told  us  to  come  to  work." 

"Just  for  that,"  cried  Chyenke  in  fury,  "I'll 


234  TEMPTATIONS 

not  take  you  even  for  nothing.  Let  Drabkin 
take  you!    I  am  the  boss  here!" 

For  a  while  the  workingmen  eyed  her  with 
scorn,  a  smile  of  contempt  upon  their  lips,  then 
they  turned  to  the  door. 

"I  tell  you,  boys,"  groaned  one  of  them  in 
jest,  "you  take  it  from  me;  Drabkin  has  it  far 
worse  with  this  new  boss  of  his  than  he  ever 
had  it  with  any  of  his  old  ones !" 

Chyenke  simply  glared  daggers  at  the 
speaker  and  was  silent. 

The  workingmen  had  not  proceeded  far  upon 
their  way  when  they  noticed  Drabkin.  At  sight 
of  them  Drabkin's  heart  fell.  Quickly  he  dis- 
appeared through  a  gate. 

"The  fellow  has  given  us  the  slip !" 

"Do  you  know  what?  We  ought  to  wait  for 
him  here  and  give  his  nose  a  good  rubbing." 

The  plan  was  accepted.  A  couple  of  the  men 
went  into  the  yard  and  two  remained  on  watch 
at  the  gate.  Drabkin  saw  all  this  and  was 
forced  to  seek  refuge  in  a  place  where  the 
noxious    odours    took    his    breath    away.   .   .  . 


DRABKIN  235 

There  he  remained,  but  the  worklngmen  did  not 
move  from  their  places. 

And  really,  why  should  he  be  hiding  from 
them?  he  thought.  Had  he  stolen  anything  of 
theirs?  Had  he  tricked  them?  Had  he  talked 
them  out  of  taking  another  position?  He  could 
even  pay  them  for  that  day,  if  they  wished. 

There  he  remained,  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot. 
...  A  strange,  strong  feeling  of  shame  held 
him  there.  Standing  in  that  foul  atmosphere, 
hiding  from  his  fellow  men,  he  felt  that  he  was 
entering  upon  a  new  path,  that  he  was  becom- 
ing an  altogether  new  Drabkin.  He  could  not 
even  explain  to  himself  the  exact  nature  of  this 
change,  just  what  was  happening  to  his  char- 
acter, to  his  whole  being.  Several  times 
Chashke  came  to  his  mind,  with  Chyenke  di- 
rectly behind;  through  his  head  echoed  snatches 
of  his  old  catch-phrases, — but  all  this,  somehow 
or  other,  like  old  faces,  old  echoes,  things  from 
long  ago.   .   .   . 

And  he  stood  there  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot. 

But  this  must  come  to  an  end.     He  resolved 


236  TEMPTATIONS 

to  come  forth  from  his  place  of  concealment. 
With  a  cough,  he  opened  the  door,  and  began, 
with  a  serious  countenance,  to  button  his  coat. 
He  lowered  his  glance  to  the  ground,  as  if 
deeply  absorbed  in  thought.  His  hat,  to  be 
sure,  was  somewhat  crooked  on  his  head.  He 
thought  that  if  he  did  not  look  at  them  he 
might  succeed  in  passing  them  by  unnoticed.  At 
any  rate,  let  them  believe  that  he  was  pro- 
foundly preoccupied. 

The  workingmen  came  forward  to  meet  him. 
He  raised  his  eyes  exactly  In  time  to  encounter 
their  glances.  A  sweet  smile  curled  on  his  lips 
— he  pretended  to  have  noticed  them  for  the 
first  time. 

"What  kept  you  in  there  so  long?" 

"Where?  .  .  .  When?  ...  Oh,  in  there? 
.  .  .  So  so.  .  .  .  My  stomach.  .  .  ." 

"Your  stomach!  You  scamp!  We  under- 
stand your  tricks.    You  were  hiding!" 

"Hiding?  .  .  .  What  do  you  mean?  .  .  . 
From  whom?  From  whom  need  I  hide?  Of 
whom  need  I  be  afraid?"  replied  Drabkin. 


DRABKIN  237 

"See  here.  What  did  we  agree  to  yester- 
day?" began  one  of  the  men  heatedly. 

"Yes,  that's  just  what  I  wanted  to  talk,  over 
with  you,"  began  Drabkin  in  a  friendly  man- 
ner. "I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  take  it  all  back. 
My  wife  got  after  me  yesterday,  and  all  her 
relatives  too,  and  .  .  .  Oh!  ...  I  had  a  day 
of  it.  .  .  .  Oh !  .  .  ."  He  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders and  waved  his  arms,  giving  his  hearers  to 
understand  what  a  terrible  day  it  had  been. 
"They  made  me  out  to  be  crazy.  You  should 
have  heard !  In  a  word,  gentlemen,  I  must  take 
it  all  back." 

Once  again  he  repeated  to  them  what  a  ter- 
rible day  he  had  gone  through.  He  spoke 
genially  and  with  genuine  regret.  He  did  not 
wish  to  have  his  word  lose  its  value  in  the 
eyes  of  his  former  companions,  and,  most  of 
all,  he  feared  their  sharp  tongues,  their  piti- 
less sarcasm.  The  men  looked  at  him  with 
scorn,  not  believing  a  word  he  said.  Nor  did 
he  escape  their  gibes. 

"  'Exploiters,  bloodsuckers  .   .   .'  "  they  mim- 


238  TEMPTATIONS 

icked.  "How  does  it  strike  you  now?  Scamp, 
you!  Devil  take  you.  .  .  'Exploiters,  blood- 
suckers, cut-purses'  "...  the  workingmen 
taunted  as  they  left. 

And  these  words  cut  him  to  the  quick.  They 
were  his  own  words.  He  could  say  nothing  in 
retort.  He  felt  that  he  himself  was  not  yet 
an  exploiter  or  a  bloodsucker,  but  he  could  not 
for  the  life  of  him  bring  the  words  to  his  tongue 
at  that  moment.  And  something  vexed  him  so 
keenly.  He  was  filled  with  a  desire  to  under- 
stand, to  grasp  just  what  ailed  him :  he  was,  it 
seemed,  the  same  Drabkin  as  yesterday  and  the 
day  before,  and  yet  not  the  same.  The  old  time 
in  which  he  had  been  a  workingman  seemed  to 
be  veiled  as  by  a  cloud;  it  was  far,  far  in  the 
past.  And  before  the  approaching  future  he 
felt  ashamed — yet  under  his  bosom  there  was 
a  strange  warmth,  and  as  soon  as  he  felt  that 
warmth  he  forgot  everything  else:  old  times, 
the  disappointed  workingmen,  their  gibes  and 
all  evil,  troublesome  thoughts. 


IX 

HE  returned  home  in  a  calm  frame  of  mind. 
He  convinced  himself  that  he  was  inno- 
cent in  the  matter  of  the  dismissal  of  the  work- 
ingmen — that  is,  as  far  as  he  was  concerned  they 
might  be  working  for  him  now,  as  at  first 
agreed,  only  Chyenke  and  her  brood  of  rela- 
tives .  .  .  No,  he  was  not  to  blame.  Yet  he 
felt  a  strong  friendship  for  Chyenke  such  as  he 
had  not  felt  since  the  wedding. 

"I  sent  your  workingmen  off,"  greeted  Chy- 
enke, preparing  the  samovar.  "It's  all  over 
now  I  .  .  .  You  won't  put  on  any  lordly  airs 
round  here  any  more!  .  .  .  Hereafter  Vll  do 
the  hiring  and  the  firing!" 

"Then  you  do  the  hiring,"  he  replied  weakly. 
He  was  content  that  he  should  no  longer  have 
to  haggle  with  the  new  hands,  and  that  his  con- 
science would  be  clear. 

239 


240  TEMPTATIONS 

But  he  was  careful  not  to  betray  his  content- 
ment. 

"A  fine  statesman  for  you!"  scoffed  Chyenke 
with  cutting  sarcasm,  looking  into  the  chimney 
of  the  samovar. 

He  made  no  reply  and  got  busy  upon  his 
work. 

From  his  bench  he  cast  frequent  glances  to- 
ward Chyenke,  who  was  occupied  with  house- 
hold duties.  She  was  angry,  and  did  not  deign 
to  look  in  his  direction.  So  he,  too,  pretended 
not  to  look  at  her. 

"She's  good  looking,  Chyenke  Is  ...  a 
beautiful  woman,"  he  thought,  stealing  a 
glimpse  at  her.  "A  fine  figure — and  what  a 
bust!"  ...  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that 
he  had  never  thought  of  "such  things"  .  .  . 
And  try  as  he  might,  he  could  not  explain  to 
himself  what  had  come  over  him.  Something 
was  drawing  him  to  Chyenke.  At  that  very 
moment  he  would  gladly  have  cast  his  work 
aside  and  run  over  to  her.  .  .  .  He  could  not 
imagine  himself  kissing  her,  but  he  would  most 


DRABKIN  241 

certainly  do  it  if  he  were  to  run  over  to  her  at 
that  very  moment.  He  was  ashamed  of  the 
feeling,  which  made  him  arise  from  his  place, 
and  he  began  to  look  for  something  upon  the 
table,  then  about  the  room,  finally  edging  up 
to  Chyenke. 

"How  about  the  samovar?"  he  asked,  sul- 
lenly, although  he  had  meant  to  say  something 
far  different  and  much  more  friendly. 

"Touch  it  and  see,"  replied  Chyenke  ill- 
humouredly,  wiping  the  tea-glasses. 

"Touch  it  and  see!"  he  mocked,  good-natur- 
edly, smiling  and  placing  a  hand  against  the 
samovar.  He  was  at  a  loss  for  something  nice 
to  say, — something  that  would  conciliate  her. 

"Whom  are  you  thinking  of  giving  the  jobs 
to?" 

"You'll  find  out!" 

She  felt  that  he  was  trying  to  make  up  with 
her,  and  that  it  was  now  her  time  to  take  re- 
venge for  yesterday's  episode.  She  would  have 
him  at  her  feet  yet! 

"You'll  find  out!"  he  mimicked  again  with  a 


242  TEMPTATIONS 

smile.  But  her  attitude  was  beginning  to  anger 
him. 

Really,  why  shouldn't  he  fly  into  a  fury,  give 
her  a  terrible  scolding,  thump  his  fist  on  the 
table  and  show  that  he  was  the  ruler  of  the 
house? 

He  clinched  his  teeth,  assumed  an  angry 
countenance  and  returned  to  his  work. 

She,  however,  took  no  heed.  She  knew  for 
certain  that  she  held  the  upper  hand;  just  let 
him  try  to  start  something  and  she'd  give  It  to 
him  so  hot  and  heavy  that  he  wouldn't  know 
where  it  came  from! 

He  sat  there,  working  away,  and  felt  that  he 
was  not  at  all  angry  with  Chyenke, — that  he 
was  merely  making  a  cross  face  to  frighten  her 
into  a  more  tender  mood.  He  glanced  at  her 
furtively  and  knew  that  he  loved  her,  that  a 
little  while  later  he  would  be  holding  her  in 
his  arms,  on  his  lap,  and  would  caress  her,  kiss 
her,  squeeze  her.  And  the  thought  brought 
such  a  tenderness,  such  a  warmth  to  his  heart 


DRABKIN  243 

that  he  worked  with  renewed  enthusiasm,  steal- 
ing countless  glances  at  Chyenke. 

"Here's  your  tea.  Drink  it!"  she  ordered, 
caustically. 

He  remained  seated.  This  was  to  signify 
that  he  was  angry  and  did  not  care  to  know 
her  or  her  tea. 

"Will  you  take  it  or  not?  If  you  don't,  I'll 
spill  your  tea  into  the  slop-pail!" 

Leisurely  he  laid  his  work  aside  and  arose 
with  a  smile.  This  was  to  signify  that  he  was 
not  at  all  angry,  and  that  he  had  not  intended 
to  play  with  her  and  spite  her,  but  that  he  had 
been  exceedingly  engrossed  in  his  work  and 
could  not  have  abandoned  it  any  sooner.  He 
thrust  his  arms  into  the  air,  stretching  himself, 
yawned  and  smiled. 

"My!  But  you're  hot-tempered!"  he 
laughed. 

He  really  meant  it.  He  wished  her  to  for- 
get her  grievance,  to  be  kind  once  again,  to 
fondle  him  as  before. 


244  TEMPTATIONS 

He  approached  the  table  and  pinched  her 
cheek. 

She  thrust  his  hand  aside. 

"Away  from  me !" 

"Psh,  psh,  psh!  What  an  angry  lady!"  .  .  . 
He  sat  down  nearby  and  placed  his  arms  about 
her  waist. 

"Better  go  away  before  I  get  angry!"  she 
cried,  tearing  herself  from  his  grasp. 

He  pressed  her  close  to  him,  bent  her  head 
toward  his  and  began  to  kiss  her,  stifling  her 
outcries  with  his  lips.  She  seized  the  glass  of 
hot  tea,  but  he  snatched  it  away  from  her  grasp. 
Only  with  the  greatest  effort  did  she  tear  her- 
self free. 

"Fll  break  your  head  for  you!"  she 
screamed,  jumping  to  her  feet.  He  laughed 
with  a  passionate,  repulsive  laughter. 

The  shadow  of  his  repulsive,  passionate 
laughter  still  lay  upon  his  lips  when  he  went 
back  to  his  work.  He  still  felt  the  kisses  upon 
his  lips  and  felt,  too,  that  he  was  sated  and  that 


DRABKIN  245 

his  heart  was  eased.  He  attacked  his  work 
with  a  happy  will  and  knew  that,  in  the  end, 
to-morrow  or  the  day  after,  Chyenke  would 
be  won  over.     He  forgot  the  whole  world. 


I 


X 

THAT  evening  Chashke  and  her  old  moth- 
er came  for  a  visit.  They  were  curious 
to  know  the  state  of  affairs  in  Drabkin's  house- 
hold and  how  the  matter  had  turned  out. 

"Ah,  Chashke!"  cried  Drabkin  with  forced 
gaiety.  He  had  not  at  all  wished  her  to  come. 
She  brought  back  to  him  memories  of  the  olden 
days,  of  things  he  no  longer  wished  to  recall. 
She  made  him  feel,  moreover,  a  keen  sense  of 
his  present  subjection.  He  was  ashamed  and 
remained  working  at  his  bench. 

Chyenke,   however,   was  glad  to  see  them. 

She  wanted  to  show  them  that  she  was  the  boss, 

and  that  he  lay  meekly  at  her  feet.     And  let 

his  former  sweetheart  see  how  he  loved  his 

wife,    how    he    fawned    upon    her.      And    let 

Chashke  burst  with  vexation  and  jealousy! 

246 


DRABKIN  247 

"Well,  how  are  things  with  you?"  inquired 
the  old  woman. 

Chashke  did  not  care  to  ask.  Already  she 
sensed  everything  and  felt  superfluous  in  Drab- 
kin's  home. 

"How  should  things  be?"  replied  Chyenke, 
in  a  triumphant  voice.  "Not  so  bad.  He's 
changed  his  mind,  my  wise  man,  my  know-it- 
all.      Oho!      Now,    it    seems    he    would   like 


to.  .  .  . 


She  did  not  say  what  he  would  like  to  do, 
but  nodded  her  head  in  Drabkin's  direction 
with  a  glance  and  with  an  expression  on  her 
face  that  spoke  far  more  plainly  than  words. 

He  did  not  raise  his  head  and  feigned  deep 
absorption  in  his  work.  Chashke  blushed  for 
him.  The  room  began  to  feel  too  narrow  for 
her.  She  must  run  away,  run  away — she  sat 
there  as  if  on  burning  coals. 

The  old  woman,  on  the  other  hand,  was  soon 
engrossed  in  chatter. 

"I  told  him  from  the  very  first  that  you 
were  as  clever  a  woman  as  I  knew,  upon  my 


248  TEMPTATIONS 

soul,  and  my  Chashke  told  him,  too,  that  it 
couldn't  be  otherwise,  and  that  he'd  be  foolish 
to  attempt  it." 

At  these  words  Drabkin  was  strongly  im- 
pelled to  raise  his  head.  Chashke  herself  had 
really  sa.id  that  it  couldn't  be  otherwise.  But 
at  once  he  recalled  what  else  she  had  said,  and 
again  he  felt  ashamed  and  remained  seated, 
his  head  closely  applied  to  his  task,  dumb. 

Chyenke  began  to  tell  how  she  had  sent  off 
the  workingmen,  and  how  Drabkin  had  dis- 
appeared from  home  early  that  same  morn- 
ing    "He  simply  didn't  have  the  heart  to 

witness  it." 

"And  now,"  she  concluded,  "I  alone  hire 
help  and  settle  things  as  /  see  fit." 

She  looked  triumphantly  at  Chashke.  Drab- 
kin said  nothing. 

"Come,  mamma.  Let's  be  going  home!" 
urged  Chashke,  rising. 

"What's  your  hurry?"  asked  Drabkin. 

Chashke  would  have  been  delighted  to  spit 
square  into  his  face.    The  old  woman  answered 


DRABKIN  249 

that  their  boarder  would  come  and  the  door 
was  locked. 

They  left. 

Drabkin  felt  that  Chashke  had  been  there 
for  the  last  time,  and  the  thought  was  some- 
what disquieting.  But  this  unpleasantness  was 
soon  lost  in  the  great  contentment  that  over- 
whelmed him.  He  felt  more  free,  more  inde- 
pendent; a  yoke  fell  from  his  neck;  there  would 
be  no  one  before  his  eyes  as  a  continual  re- 
minder of  his  former  years  and  his  former 
talk. 

Gone  forever, — gone — and  forgotten. 

Now  he  would  really  work, — work  honestly. 
Here  God  was  helping  him*  to  become  a  man 
among  men, — then  why  shouldn't  he  do  it? 
And,  naturally,  he  wouldn't  be  like  those  dogs, 
his  former  employers.  He  would  know  that 
a  workingman  was  a  human  being,  too,  and 
would  treat  his  men  altoge*-her  differently.  They 
would  be  to  him  like  his  own  people,  like 
brothers.     Chashke  really  was  a  fool. 

"Did  you  see  in  what  a  rage  your  Chashke 


250  TEMPTATIONS 

left?"  asked  Chyenke,  Interrupting  his 
thoughts. 

"Why  are  you  always  saying  'your'  Chash- 
ke?"  he  queried,  with  a  smile. 

"I  know.     You  still  run  to  her  house." 

"Pah!  Better  come  and  sit  down  here,  right 
beside  me.     So!" 

He  slapped  his  knee  and  stretched  his  arms 
out  to  her. 

Chashke's  heart  was  heavy.  So  heavy,  In- 
deed, that  she  would  gladly  have  wept.  Her 
throat  contracted  with  sorrow.  She  walked 
rapidly,  and  her  mother  could  scarcely  keep 
pace  with  her. 

"Just  mark  my  word,"  gasped  the  old 
woman,  running  after  her  daughter,  "In  a  few 
years  Drabkin  will  be  rich, — worth  several 
thousand  roubles.  She  has  a  smart  head  on  her 
shoulders.  If  you  had  only  half  her  brains 
I  wouldn't  have  to  worry  about  you !  Oh !  Oh  I 
Ah!    .    .    ." 

It  was  the  old  mother's  disappointment  that 


DRABKIN  251 

spoke  in  her,— disappointment  that  nothing  had 
come  of  the  intimacy  between  Drabkin  and  her 
daughter. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me,  mamma?  Please 
don't  say  any  more,"  entreated  Chashke  with 
a  quivering  voice,  turning  her  pale  countenance 
toward  her  mother. 

The  little  old  woman  was  frightened  by  the 
quivering  voice  and  the  pale  countenance.  Wav- 
ing her  hand,  she  shook  her  head. 

"There!    I  mustn't  say  a  word!"  she  sighed. 

She  spoke  no  more  that  night. 

Chashke  felt  as  if  she  had  just  returned  from 
a  cemetery,  where  she  had  buried  her  dearest 
treasure. 

Drabkin,  Drabkin!  .  .  .  And  he  had  been 
her  Drabkin !   .  .  . 

Ah,  and  up  to  that  very  day  she  had  dreamed 
and  imagined! 

Oh,  to  weep,  to  weep 

That  night  she  had  a  dream.  No,  not  a 
dream,  for  she  could  not  fall  asleep,  and  lay 


252  TEMPTATIONS 

with  eyes  wide  open,  staring  into  the  impene- 
trable darkness. 

She  beheld  how  Drabkin  was  becoming  a 
pot-bellied  boss;  all  his  thoughts  were  centred 
only  upon  how  to  enlarge  his  shop  and  fill  his 
purse.  Everything  else  was  forgotten — every 
human  Impulse,  every  tinge  of  sympathy  for  the 
poor  worker,  every  spark  of  compassion  for 
the  under-dog.  Workingmen  to  him  were  hired 
slaves — and  "Ephraim  is  supposed  to  work  till 
nine  o'clock  at  night  and  works  till  half-past 
ten ;  when  he  came  to  work  this  morning  at  half- 
past  seven,  they  fell  upon  him  like  a  mad 
dog.    .    .    ." 

And  in  the  silent  darkness  it  seemed  to  her 
that  Drabkin  struck  a  cruel  blow  upon  the  face 
of  a  little  child  who  was  apprenticed  to  him. 

A  shudder  ran  through  her  whole  body,  and 
she  began  to  weep  hysterically. 

A  heartbreaking,  bitter  weeping 


THE  BLACK  CAT 


THE  BLACK  CAT 

Ir  has  been  raining  for  already  two  days, — 
a  soft,  leisurely  drizzle,  but  an  endless  one. 
Often  it  increases  In  vehemence.  It  begins  to 
patter  upon  my  roof  with  rapid  fury.  Then  It 
seems  that  at  last  It  is  over.  Now  the  dense 
grey  clouds  will  empty  themselves  and  the 
downpour  will  cease.  The  great  fury  abates, 
the  racket  upon  the  roof  becomes  gradually 
quiet,  yet  the  rain  continues  to  fall,  softly  and 
leisurely.  Often  so  softly  that  It  seems  to  have 
stopped.  Then  I  look  out  of  the  window  with 
just  a  ray  of  hope  that  I  shall  see  a  clear  sky. 
But  by  the  wheels  that  roll  incessantly  across 
the  pavement  I  recognise  the  eternal  rain.  The 
eternal  rain.     The  eternal.  .  .  . 

I  lower  the  shades  and  turn  on  the  electric 
light.  Let  it  be  night.  I'll  seat  myself  upon  the 
armchair    before    my    desk    and    pursue    my 

thoughts,  and  think  and  think  of 

255 


256  TEMPTATIONS 

Of  my  fortune — or  of  my  misfortune? 

It  has  come  upon  me  so  suddenly  that  I 
don't  know  how  to  take  it.  The  day  before 
yesterday  I  was  so  happy,  and  to-day  my  heart 
is  so  heavy,  so  heavy.  ...  I  know  that  this 
is  the  effect  of  the  ceaseless  rain, — of  the  weep- 
ing, lamenting,  grey,  dark-grey  outdoors.  Still, 
I  am  so  restless.  My  feeling  comes  from  within, 
— comes  over  me  from  the  depths  of  my  heart 
and  my  soul.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  must  be 
moody,  and  I  cannot  understand  how  I  could 
have  been  so  high-spirited  the  day  before  yes- 
terday, I  am  vexed  that  I  can  no  longer  be 
so  merry. 

So  suddenly.    So  suddenly.   .   .  . 

Can  it  have  happened  only  ten  days  ago? 

Only  ten  days  ago. 

She  brought  me  a  manuscript,  which  I  was 
to  read  and  appraise  for  her. 

Young — perhaps  twenty,  and  maybe  only 
eighteen. 

And  beautiful — beautiful?    Yes,  even  strik- 


THE  BLACK  CAT  257 

ingly  beautiful.  Scarcely  had  I  opened  the  door 
and  beheld  her,  when  a  strange  sensation 
clutched  at  my  heart. 

Her  eyes !  Those  deep,  black  eyes  under  the 
long  black  lashes!  They  pierced  me  at  once. 
I  could  not  tear  myself  away  from  them.  And 
thus  overwhelmed,  only  half  conscious,  I  re- 
ceived the  impression  that  those  eyes  were  set 
in  a  rather  long,  dark-complexioned,  youthful 
countenance,  and  that  around  a  low,  alluring 
forehead  played  several  black  curls  mischiev- 
ously, and  that  her  whole  figure  was  very  svelte 
and  supple, — almost  that  of  a  child. 

And  her  voice !  Like  her  eyes.  Deep,  and 
of  a  dark  quality,  and  so  warm.  No  sooner  had 
she  asked,  "Does  Mr.  So-and-so  live  here,  and 
are  you  not  he  ?"  than  my  eyes  and  my  ears  were 
so  completely  filled  with  her  that  I  forgot  I 
must  not  keep  her  standing  at  the  door,  and 
that  I  must  invite  her  in. 

She  invited  herself,  however.  She  entered 
my  room,  far  beyond  the  threshold,  and  I  closed 
the  door  slowly,  without  removing  my  glance 


258  TEMPTATIONS 

from  her.  And  remained  standing  as  If  hyp- 
notised, without  knowing  whether  to  make  In- 
quiry or  to  wait  until  she  would  tell  me  who  she 
was  and  what  she  wished  of  me. 

She  laughed.  Deep,  warm,  ringing  laughter. 
Why  did  I  not  ask  her  to  be  seated? 

Oh,  yes.  Pardon.  And  I,  the  father  of  a 
daughter  almost  as  old  as  she,  turned  red  with 
embarrassment,  It  seems.  I  hastened  to  fetch 
her  a  chair,  but  she  had  already  chosen  one  and 
sat  down. 

She  continues  to  speak,  while  I  take  my  place 
In  my  armchair  before  the  desk  and  gaze,  gaze 
upon  her,  my  ears  thirstily  and  enchantedly 
drinking  in  the  sound  of  her  voice. 

She  tells  me  that  she  pictured  me  exactly  as 
I  am.  She  has  read  everything  I  have  writ- 
ten. She  knows  all  my  writings  well  and  has 
imagined  a  picture  of  me.  And  the  picture  is 
correct.  But  she  did  not  think  I  possessed  so 
many  grey  hairs.  That  makes  no  difference, 
however.     For  I  am  young.     She  is  certain  of 


THE  BLACK  CAT  259 

that.  But  she  still  has  no  idea  of  how  my  voice 
sounds.  She  thus  hints  that  I  hav^e  said  nothing 
as  yet.     And  she  laughs. 

I  join  the  laughter  and  am  at  a  loss  for  words. 
I  feel  that  I  must  say  something  significant, — 
that  the  maidenly  vision  with  the  beautiful  child- 
like figure,  who  knows  all  my  writings  and  has 
formed  a  perfect  image  of  me,  is  now  waiting 
for  deep  and  notable  words  to  issue  from  my 
lips.  Nor  do  I  desire  to  be  insignificant.  I 
don't  care  to  utter  plain,  ordinary,  pedestrian 
words.  So  I  smile  and  wait  for  her  to  speak 
further. 

She  looks  about  the  room,  resting  her  glance 
for  a  moment  upon  the  paintings  that  hang 
upon  my  walls.  And  soon  she  transfers  her 
eyes  once  more  to  me.  Sharp,  penetrating 
glances,  with  a  great  question  in  them.  And 
now  there  rises  in  her  eyes  a  smile  of  subtle 
irony. 

Because  I  do  not  inquire,  she  explains  in  her 
deep  voice,  she  is  compelled  to  speak  for  her- 
self.   Why  does  one  come  to  a  famous  author? 


26o  TEMPTATIONS 

Naturally,  she  has  for  a  long  time  desired  to 
know  me,  but  without  a  special  reason  she 
would  never  have  dared  to  come.  Now,  how- 
ever, she  comes  as  to  a  doctor  or  a  lawyer,  on 
a  professional  visit,  for  an  opinion  and  for 
counsel.  She  has  written  something  and  wishes 
to  enjoy  the  criticism  of  an  authority.  Will  I 
not  take  the  trouble? 

I  reply  politely,  very  politely:  "Certainly, 
with  the  greatest  of  pleasure." 

She  laughs.  Oh,  she  does  not  believe  that  her 
piece  will  afford  me  much  pleasure.  The  very 
handwriting  is  impossible.  Should  I  prefer, 
perhaps,  to  have  her  read  it  to  me? 

I  desire  to  hear  the  sound  of  her  voice.  But 
If  she  reads  she  will  look  at  the  manuscript  dur- 
ing the  entire  reading,  and  I'll  be  unable  to  see 
her  eyes. 

Then  she  adds,  "But  I  read  very  badly.  My 
reading  is  even  worse  than  my  handwriting." 
She  laughs:  she  does  not  care  to  read,  either. 
For  if  she  reads  it  now,  I'll  express  my  opinion 
at  once,  and  she  will  have  to  arise,  say  "Good 


THE  BLACK  CAT  261 

day,"  and  never  call  again.  She  would  rather 
leave  the  manuscript  with  me,  and  then  she  will 
come, — yes,  she  will  really  come  and  hear  the 
answer.  She  does  not  wish  it  by  mail.  She 
will  certainly  have  a  number  of  questions  to 
ask.  She  would  prefer  to  come, — and  since, 
naturally,  I  shall  not  have  read  her  manuscript 
through,  she  will  have  to  call  again  and 
again.  .  .  . 

She  deposits  upon  my  desk  a  small  manu- 
script. For  the  first  time  I  see  her  hand.  A 
wee  little  hand, — white,  tender  skin,  through 
which  the  lines  of  the  joints  are  visible. 

I  take  the  manuscript,  glance  at  the  title- 
page,  peep  at  the  beginning  and  at  the  middle, 
and  feel  her  deep  black  eyes  upon  me.  And  as 
I  raise  my  head  I  encounter  her  glances  with  the 
great  question  in  them,  and  also  the  subtle  irony. 

Something  taps  at  my  window.  And  now  it 
miaows.  I  know  that  a  cat  has  taken  refuge 
upon  my  window-sill  from  the  endless  down- 
pour.    I  am  certain  of  it,  yet  I  arise  from  my 


262  TEMPTATIONS 

chair  and  walk  over  to  take  a  look.  This  fur- 
nishes some  distraction  from  my  thoughts.  And 
an  excuse  for  moving.     My  feet  are  like  ice. 

I  raise  the  shade  and  shudder  with  fright.  A 
large  black  cat  is  looking  up  at  me  from  the 
outer  darkness,  with  her  burning,  phosphores- 
cent eyes.  I  hate  a  black  cat.  Not  that  I  am 
superstitious,  yet  In  my  memory  and  my  nerves 
there  is  a  residue  of  everything  that  supersti- 
tion has  created  concerning  black  cats.  I  rap 
at  the  window  to  drive  her  away.  But  she  pays 
little  heed  to  my  rapping.  She  turns  around, 
selects  a  comfortable  spot  and  lies  down.  I  am 
on  the  point  of  opening  the  window  and  thrust- 
ing her  into  the  street  below,  but  I  don't  care  to 
touch  her.  I  take  pity  on  her,  too.  Outside  the 
rain  is  still  falling,  falling.  Let  her  lie  and  rest 
on  a  dry  spot.    Who  cares? 

I  lower  the  shade  and  return  to  my  writing 
table. 

Just  a  moment  to  banish  the  black  cat  from 
my  mind,  and  I'll  pursue  my  thoughts  anew. 


THE  BLACK  CAT  263 

Now  then — of  my  fortune  and  misfortune. 
But  did  I  not  previously  think:  or  my  misfor- 
tune? 

I  answered  her,  Yes.  She  could  leave  the 
manuscript  with  me.  I  would  read  it  over, — 
read  it  over  very  carefully,  and  tell  her  my 
opinion. 

The  whole  truth? 

Of  course. 

When  would  she  come  for  the  answer? 

I'd  tell  her  a  few  days  later. 

Why  a  few  days  later?  Why  not  to- 
morrow? She  would  come  to-morrow.  The 
piece  was  such  a  short  one.  One  could  read  it 
In  less  than  half  an  hour. 

So  I  yield  to  her.  Very  well.  Let  her  come 
to-morrow. 

My  wife  has  meanwhile  entered  the  room.  I 
introduce  her.  My  wife  is  affable  and  smiles, 
but  she  is  sullen,  curt  and  unbending. 

She  arises  from  her  place.  Now  she  will 
leave. 

My  wife  laughs.    "Am  I  driving  you  away?" 


264  TEMPTATIONS 

She,  somewhat  aloof,  replies,  No.  She  has 
simply  been  sitting  long  enough. 

And  on  the  threshold  she  asks,  insinuatingly, 
"You  will  read  my  manuscript  personally?" 

For  a  second  I  am  strongly  impelled  to  return 
her  manuscript,  thus  wreaking  vengeance  upon 
her  for  my  wife. 

But  she  has  already  closed  the  door  and  is 
gone,  without  having  waited  for  a  reply.  Per- 
haps she  had  noticed  the  spark  of  displeasure 
that  shone  in  my  eyes, 

"What  sort  of  impudent  cat  is  that?"  asks 
my  wife. 

I  burst  into  laughter. 

The  next  day  she  did  not  come.  Nor  the  day 
after.  But  on  both  days  I  thought  that  she  had 
not  come.  I  did  not  wish  to  give  the  matter 
thought,  but  it  haunted  me,  made  me  uneasy. 
If  she  had  promised  to  come,  she  should  have 
kept  her  word. 

I  read  her  manuscript.  A  very  wretched 
tale.     It  was  supposed  to  depict  the  yearning 


THE  BLACK  CAT  265 

of  a  solitary  woman  for  an  unknown  man.  But 
the  words  were  weak  and  the  colours  false.  And 
I  could  not  get  away  from  the  idea  that  per- 
haps she  had  written  them  just  to  have  a  pre- 
text for  coming  to  me.     "The  Impudent  cat !" 

On  the  third  day  she  came.  From  the  door 
she  laughed  to  me  with  her  deep,  staccato 
laughter.     "Kept  you  waiting?" 

"Catch  me  telling  you,  you  cat!" 

I  bid  her  enter  the  room.  She  advances  to 
the  centre,  looks  about,  gazes  toward  the  door 
by  which  my  wife  entered  three  days  before,  di- 
rects her  deep  look  upon  me,  taking  a  chair,  and 
speaks  with  her  deep,  velvety  voice.  "Have 
you  read  through  my  manuscript?" 

I  am  about  to  tell  her  the  truth,  but  I  feel 
that  I  cannot  dismiss  her  from  me  forever, — 
that  I  desire  her  to  come  to  me  again, — so  I 
reply,  "I've  read  it,  but  not  read  it  through. 
You  will  have  to  forgive  me." 

"Where  did  you  leave  off?" 

Yes,  where  am  I  to  tell  her  I  left  off? 

"Perhaps  you  haven't  even  started  to  read  It 


266  TEMPTATIONS 

yet?"  she  suggests,  seeing  that  no  answer  to 
her  previous  question  is  forthcoming. 

I  assure  her  that  I  really  have  read  her  tale, 
commencing  to  relate  the  contents,  and  betray- 
ing myself  by  disclosing  a  knowledge  of  the 
end. 

"Then  youVe  read  it  all!"  she  laughs. 

"Yes,"  I  confess.  "But  only  superficially, — 
I  merely  thumbed  the  pages." 

And  she,  with  her  deep  voice,  declares,  "Oh, 
my  little  story  isn't  so  deep  that  it  requires  a 
second  reading.  You  may  tell  me  your  opinion. 
I  will  not  cry  if  my  little  piece  is  valueless.  I 
know  myself  that  its  worth  is  very  small.  And 
as  to  my  coming  to  you  again,  you  needn't 
worry.  I  have  brought  another  manuscript  that 
I  wrote  in  the  past  two  days." 

Heavens,  what  is  that?  Fie!  What  a  scare 
I  got! 

The  black  cat  has  sprung  into  the  room. 

I  look  at  her  in  terror.  And  only  gradually 
does  my  astonishment  master  my  fear.     How 


THE  BLACK  CAT  267 

did  she  jump  in?     For  the  window  is  closed! 

I  go  over  to  the  window.  The  cat  presses 
close  to  the  wall  underneath  and  gazes  up  at  me, 
as  if  entreating  me  not  to  cast  her  out.  I  raise 
the  shade.  I  examine  the  window.  It  is  shut 
and  fastened.  I  examine  the  panes.  Ah,  yes, 
down  in  the  left-hand  corner  a  small  opening 
has  been  broken  through.  A  small  opening, 
forming  together  with  the  frame  a  triangle. 
And  the  glass  bordering  the  hole  glitters  with 
many  sharp,  uneven,  jagged  edges. 

When  was  the  pane  broken?  How  have  I 
failed  to  notice  it  sooner?  Why  has  nobody  in 
the  house  noticed  it? 

And  how  has  the  cat  crawled  through?  That 
large  black  cat  through  such  a  small  aperture? 
She  must  have  scratched  her  entire  skin.  I  turn 
to  look  at  her  and  am  seized  with  murderous 
rage.  I  am  about  to  kick  her,  and  resolve  to 
throw  her  back  into  the  rain  and  the  darkness. 
If  only  for  the  sake  of  the  yellow  canary  that  I 
have  in  a  brass  cage  in  another  room.  But  I 
myself  do  not  wish  to  do  this.     I  don't  care  to 


268  TEMPTATIONS 

touch  the  wet  cat,  and  I  feel  sure  that  I'll  stain 
my  fingers  with  blood. 

I  summon  the  housemaid  and  order  her  to 
throw  out  the  cat.  She  does  not  ask  how  the  cat 
got  in.  She  is  certain  that  some  one  let  the 
animal  in  and  would  like  to  know  who  could 
have  been  so  careless.  Her  first  thought  and 
chief  concern  is  the  yellow  songbird  of  whom 
the  entire  household  is  so  fond.  She  seizes  the 
cat  and  dashes  out  with  it.  She  opens  the 
street-door  and  throws  the  animal  out  with 
a  curse.  I  wish  to  learn  whether  her  hands  are 
smeared  with  blood,  but  she  does  not  reappear. 
She  has  gone  back  to  her  work.  I  am  content. 
For  a  long  conversation  would  have  ensued, 
and  I  desire  to  be  alone  and  undisturbed.  I'll 
find  out  later. 

To  resume. 

She  sat  and  spoke  for  a  long  time.  She  also 
arose  from  her  place  and  approached  me,  so 
close  that  I  could  feel  her  breath  and  an  odour 
of  new-mown  hay  enveloped  me ;  a  warmth  radi- 


THE  BLACK  CAT  269 

ated  from  her,  making  me  uncomfortably  warm. 
Several  times  she  placed  her  hand  upon  my 
hair, — my  hair  that  was  more  grey  than  black 
— the  impudent  cat!  How  dare  she!  Suppose 
my  wife  should  happen  to  come  in  and  sur- 
prise us. 

She  noticed  my  furtive  glances  toward  the 
door  and  laughed.  She  had  seen  my  wife  leave 
the  house,  she  asserted.  With  a  young  girl. 
Was  that  my  daughter?  As  she  spoke  she  ca- 
ressed my  grey  hair  and  looked  at  me  with 
those  deep  eyes  full  of  endearment  and  desire. 
And  she  added,  with  her  velvety,  resonant  voice, 
"I  detest  authors'  wives!" 

And  then :  "An  artist  should  not  be  married. 
He  should  be  free — for  all  and  each.    .    .    ." 

I  maintained  a  significant  silence.  What 
should  I  say  to  her?  I  must  be  careful  with 
this  woman. 

She  took  my  hand  and  examined  my  fingers. 
She  held  them  long  and  tenderly,  fondhng  them 
with  her  own  thin,  warm  fingers. 

Then  I  had  to  discourse  to  her  about  my  ere- 


2  JO  TEMPTATIONS 

atlve  work,  and  the  touch  of  her  fingers  was  im- 
mensely pleasant,  and  I  spoke  with  increasing 
warmth  and  friendliness,  so  that  she  might  not 
release  my  hands. 

All  at  once  she  leaned  forward  and  kissed 
me  upon  the  lips,  as  I  was  in  the  middle  of  a 
sentence, — in  the  very  middle  of  a  word. 

Like  a  flash  she  disappeared  from  the  room. 

The  cat !  The  cat  has  again  sprung  Into  the 
room.  Naturally,  through  the  same  opening 
in  the  window-pane.  I  scold  and  curse.  But 
this  time  I'll  not  summon  the  maid.  I  open 
the  window,  seize  the  cat  by  the  neck  and  throw 
her  Into  the  street  with  all  my  might.  I  do  not 
see  her  fall,  but  I  hear  her  strike  the  stony  pave- 
ment far  off  somewhere.  There,  now  she  will 
hesitate  long  before  she'll  come.  That  is,  if 
she  is  able  to  move  at  all. 

I  close  the  window  and  sigh  with  relief.  But 
that  hole  must  be  stuffed.  If  It  were  not  for 
the  Inclemency  of  the  weather  and  the  lateness 
of  the  hour,  I  would  send  for  the  glazier.    But 


THE  BLACK  CAT  271 

for  the  present  It  must  be  stuffed  with  some- 
thing. I  hunt  about,  find  a  newspaper  and  stop 
the  hole. 

Now  I  may  calmly  give  myself  once  more 
over  to  my  thoughts. 

A  kiss.    A  bound.    Vanished 


She  came  the  following  day.  With  her  deep 
eyes,  her  deep  voice  and  her  singing  youth. 

I  feared  her  coming;  I  tried  to  hope  that  she 
would  not  come.  No  sooner  had  I  caught  sight 
of  her  than  my  heart  began  to  pound  excitedly. 

She  had  again  arrived  just  after  my  wife  had 
left  the  house.  Had  she  watched  for  her  to 
leave?  How  long  had  she  been  lurking  out- 
side?    I  asked  her  and  she  laughed. 

Oh,  what  was  the  difference !  She  had  waited 
much  longer  before  coming  to  me  for  the  first 
time.  The  thought  of  using  the  manuscript  as 
a  pretext  had  been  slow  to  suggest  itself  to  her. 

But — wouldn't  I  prefer  to  come  to  her?  She 
had  her  own  room.  She  might  receive  any  one 
she  pleased;  she  was  perfectly  free. 


272  TEMPTATIONS 

She  said  all  this  so  simply.  So  sweetly,  so 
Innocently,  so  naturally, — with  that  deep  vel- 
vety voice  of  hers,  and  her  fathomless  eyes  and 
her  intense  youth. 

I  wanted  to  cry  out.  No !  I  felt  with  all  my 
being  that  I  should  say  No.  But  at  the  same 
time  I  knew  that  the  struggle  was  in  vain. 

She  had  ignited  something  within  me,  and  I 
was  all  aflame, — burning,  burning. 

She  seized  me  in  an  embrace  and  pressed 
upon  my  lips  a  long,  passionate  kiss.  Within 
me,  my  being  shouted,  sang  and  exulted. 

I  was  young  again  !  Young  again !  How  we 
both  rejoiced! 

To-morrow  I  am  supposed  to  visit  her.  Un- 
til to-day  I  longed  for  to-morrow  to  arrive.  And 
now  I  am  afraid  of  it.  To-day  I  do  not  desire 
It.  I  tremble  lest  I  go  to  her  after  all.  Whither 
will  this  lead?  Who  Is  she?  What  is  she? 
Why  has  she  singled  me  out?  I  have  grey 
hairs  already  and  a  grown-up  daughter  almost 
her  age. 


THE  BLACK  CAT  273 

Isn't  that  the  rustle  of  the  paper  with  which 
I  stuffed  the  broken  pane? 

Yes.     Somebody's  clawing  and  tearing  at  it. 

Or  perhaps  it's  the  black  cat  again!  I  jump 
to  my  feet  and  run  to  the  window.  Yes.  The 
black  cat  has  pulled  out  the  paper  and  has  al- 
ready thrust  her  head  in  through  the  opening. 

No!  This  time  you  shall  not  crawl  in!  I 
place  my  hand  upon  her  head  and  press,  press 
with  all  my  strength.  Oh,  surely  I'll  crush  the 
feline  life  out  of  her!    .    .    . 

Yet.  .  .  .  Yet.  .  .  .  How  strong  she  is! 
.  .  .  She  plants  herself  firmly  upon  her  fore- 
paws  and  gradually  thrusts  herself  backwards 
through  the  opening  and  from  under  my  hand. 
And  now  she  already  has  her  forepaws  on  the 
outer  side  of  the  window.  ...  I  am  seized 
with  terror.  .  .  .  Hot  and  cold  chills  pass 
through  me.   ...   I  begin  to  call  for  help.  .  .  . 

Fie,  what  an  evil  dream!  How  my  heart 
throbs !  I  go  to  the  window.  Outside  it  is  still 
raining;  the  night  is  black,  and  on  the  window 


274  TEMPTATIONS 

ledge  lies  the  black  cat,  peacefully  coiled  into  a 

ball. 

I  place  my  hot  forehead  against  the  cool 
window-pane  and  am  consumed  by  a  passionate 
wish.  May  the  other  one,  too,  be  only  an  evil 
dream  !    And  I  shudder. 

Oh!     Oh! 

To-morrow — to-morrow — to-morrow!  .   .   . 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN 

ITSYE  had  for  two  days  in  succession  had 
nothing  in  his  mouth;  in  other  words,  he  had 
been  hungering.  But  on  the  third  day,  for 
three  brass  buttons  he  wheedled  the  lunch  out  of 
a  little  Hebrew  school  pupil  that  studied  in  the 
school  of  his  yard — two  little  buttered  cakes — 
and  swallowed  them  eagerly.  Then  he  became 
angry.  The  cakes  were  a  mere  morsel  to  him, 
but  now  he  had  at  least  a  little  strength  with 
which  to  feel  anger,  and  was  seized  with  an  im- 
pulse to  accomplish  evil.  His  fingers  itched 
with  the  desire.  First  of  all  he  launched  a 
wicked  kick  in  the  direction  of  Zhutshke,  the 
little  dog  which  the  landlady  of  his  house  held 
dearer  than  her  own  children.  Zhutshke  ran 
off  yelping  with  pain,  but  this  was  not  enough 
for  Itsye.     He  tore  up  a  stone  that  had  been 

frozen  to  the  earth  and  with  all  his  strength 

277 


278  TEMPTATIONS 

sent  it  flying  after  the  dog.  It  did  not  strike 
the  animal,  however,  but  landed  on  the  door  of 
SImkIn  the  lawyer's  house.  It  struck  with  a 
resounding  blow,  and  Itsye  felt  satisfied,  for 
he  wouldn't  have  cared  had  the  stone  struck 
SImkin  or  Simkin's  wife  on  the  head. 

But  with  all  this  his  hunger  was  not  ap- 
peased in  the  slightest,  nor  was  his  seething 
heart  calmed  in  the  smallest  degree.  He  waxed 
still  angrier,  for  he  felt  that  these  were  mere 
trifles,  that  he  had  accomplished  nothing  with 
them.  He  walked  through  the  gate,  glanced  up 
and  down  the  street,  and  felt  that  he  was  an 
enemy  to  every  passer-by,  and  especially  to 
every  one  that  rode.  He  cursed  them  with  bit- 
ter oaths  and  would  gladly,  with  his  own  hands, 
have  executed  all  tortures  upon  them. 

Another  little  pupil  approached  the  gate;  he 
was  wrapped  in  a  broad  scarf  and  wore  the 
large  shoes  of  a  grown-up  person.  He  held  his 
hands  inside  the  scarf,  and  either  because  he 
was  indifferent  or  because  it  was  too  cold,  he 
did  not  remove  them  to  wipe  his  nose,  from 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     279 

which    mucus    leaked    down    to    his    mouth. 

Out  of  his  pocket  peeped  a  crust  of  bread. 
Itsye  was  seized  with  a  longing  for  it,  but  the 
appearance  of  the  poor  child  restrained  him. 
He  sought,  however,  to  convince  himself  that 
he  was  incensed  against  the  child,  even  as  he 
was  against  the  whole  world,  and  that  he  ought 
to  give  him  a  hard  kick,  as  he  had  just  done  to 
Zhutshke.  He  seized  the  child  by  the  nose, 
then  struck  him  on  the  cap  and  scowled,  "Slob, 
it's  running  into  your  mouth !"  The  child  was 
frightened,  brought  his  elbow  up  to  his  nose  and 
ran  off.  But  soon  he  turned  back,  looked  at 
his  unexpected  enemy  and  began  to  cry, 
"Wicked  Itsye!  Itsye  the  bad  man!"  And  he 
disappeared  through  the  gate.  Itsye  did  not 
even  deign  to  lok  at  him. 

He  leaned  against  the  gate.  Why?  He  did 
not  himself  know.  At  any  rate,  he  was  weary. 
Angry  and  exhausted.  The  two  cakes  had  only 
excited  him.  Food,  food!  He  could  see  be- 
fore his  eyes  the  piece  of  bread  in  the  poor  boy's 
torn  pocket.     That  would  have  come  in  very 


28o  TEMPTATIONS 

handy.  He  was  sorry  that  he  hadn't  taken  it 
away      A  whole  big  piece  of  bread 

He  leaned  more  heavily  against  the  gate,  not 
knowing  why  and  not  knowing  what  was  to 
come  or  what  would  result  from  his  standing 
there.  The  cold  grew  intense,  but  Itsye  did  not 
feel  it,  for  he  was  angry  and  paid  no  attention 
to  it.  Besides,  he  had  no  place  of  refuge.  Up 
there  in  his  garret  it  was  still  colder.  More- 
over, there  was  nobody  there,  and  he  would 
have  none  upon  whom  to  vent  his  wrath. 

He  stood  thinking  of  nothing.  It  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  think.  He  no  longer  knew 
precisely  that  he  was  in  a  rage ;  it  seemed  to  him 
that  to-day  he  would  work  a  very  clever  piece 
of  malice.  He  knew  nothing  about  dynamite; 
otherwise  he  would  have  thought  unceasingly 
of  bombs,  and  would  have  painted  himself  pic- 
tures of  the  whole  city,  the  whole  country,  the 
world  itself,  being  blown  by  him  into  atoms. 
But  he  gave  no  thought  to  any  definite  project. 
He  was  certain  that  he  would  do  something 
malicious  enough.     He  felt  it. 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     281 

Two  labourers  passed  by  and  were  conversing 
about  hunting  for  work.  It  flashed  through  his 
head  that  he  would  stop  looking  for  work  even 
if  the  employers  starved  to  death !  At  the 
same  time  he  felt  that  his  seeking  was  all  in 
vain.  He  would  find  no  work  to-day,  any  more 
than  yesterday,  or  the  day  before,  or  the  day 
before  that,  or  the  whole  twenty-seven  days 
in  which  he  had  been  searching  for  employ- 
ment. 

In  his  mind's  eye  he  could  see  "to-morrow," 
— a  dragging,  cloudy  day,  on  which  he  would 
be  faint  with  hunger.  But  he  did  not  care  to 
think  of  to-morrow.  Only  "to-day."  .  .  . 
To-day  he  must  accomplish  something;  then  he 
would  know  what  would  come  to-morrow,  the 
day  after,  and  all  the  other  days.  Wherefore 
he  remained  leaning  against  the  gate  and  looked 
into  the  street  with  a  cutting  smile  upon  his  pale 
lips  and  in  his  dull,  weary  eyes,  without  the 
trace  of  a  thought  in  his  head.  He  even  ceased 
scolding  and  cursing. 

All  at  once  he  tore  himself  away  from  the 


282  TEMPTATIONS 

gate  and  began  to  walk.  He  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  whither  he  went.  He  lost  his  bearings, 
unknown  to  himself.  He  strode  on,  not  know- 
ing that  he  was  moving.  His  feet  were  like 
logs  and  he  could  scarcely  lift  them.  He  be- 
came soon  aware  that  he  was  no  longer  at  the 
gate,  and  that  he  was  wandering  about  the 
street.  Then  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had 
wished  and  resolved  to  take  a  little  walk,  only 
he  could  not  recall  when  he  had  thought  of  it. 
It  was  good  that  he  would  now  have  a  little  ex- 
ercise. His  feet  must  get  warm.  But  he  af- 
fected not  to  be  troubled  about  his  feet  any 
more  than  about  the  cold  itself,  which  pierced 
him  to  the  very  marrow. 

He  walked  along  slowly,  cautiously,  calmly. 
The  street  on  which  he  was  led  at  one  end  to 
the  city-market  and  at  the  other  to  the  municipal 
garden.  He  had  no  idea  of  whither  he  was 
headed,  but  the  nearer  he  approached  to  the 
market  the  shriller  and  clearer  became  the 
noises  from  that  vicinity.  Then  he  realised  the 
direction  in  which  his  feet  were  taking  him,  and 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     283 

again  it  seemed  to  him  that  this  was  exactly 
what  he  had  desired  and  determined  upon.  This 
was  the  very  spot  for  him  to  execute  his  plan 
of  vengeance.     He  stopped  on  the  curb. 

The  great  market-place  seethed  with  shout- 
ing, gesticulating  persons.  The  air  resounded 
with  the  din  of  thousands  of  human  beings.  The 
clamorous  despair  of  the  wretched  poor,  the 
grunting  indifference  of  the  sated  rich,  the 
screeching  impudence  of  the  money-hungry, — 
all  mingled  here  and  rose  above  the  heads  of 
the  multitude,  deafening  the  ears  of  the  unac- 
customed spectator.  About  Itsye  all  manner 
of  individuals  were  walking,  hurrying,  scamper- 
ing, with  and  without  bundles.  Almost  every 
passer-by  touched  him,  jostled  against  him,  but 
he  stood  there  calm,  motionless.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  this  in  itself  was  good, — that  in  this 
manner  alone  he  was  doing  harm.  Yes,  he  must 
continue  to  stand  here  and  obstruct  everybody's 
passage !  His  eyes,  however,  darted  about  the 
square,  as  if  seeking  there  just  what  form  his 
vindictive  ire  should  assume.    They  rested  upon 


284  TEMPTATIONS 

the  bread-shops  and  the  bank-stalls,  laden  with 
"Korah's  wealth."  And  he  began  to  contem- 
plate how  it  would  be  if  he  made  off  with  a 
packet  of  bank-notes 

A  porter  with  a  large  case  on  his  shoulders 
bumped  against  him,  nearly  pushing  him  over. 
He  felt  an  intense  pain  in  his  back  and  came  to 
himself.    He  turned  red  with  anger. 

"You  plague,  you!     Where  are  your  eyes?" 

The  porter  mumbled  something  from  under 
his  burden  and  continued  on  his  way  with  heavy 
steps. 

Itsye,  however,  felt  the  pain  and  rubbed  his 
back. 

'T'll  bury  you  together  with  the  case,  you 
piece  of  carrion-meat!" 

The  porter  craned  his  neck  from  under  his 
case  and  looked  back  at  the  shouting  man. 
Itsye's  appearance  called  forth  little  deference 
from  the  toiler;  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and 
eyed  his  opponent  with  scorn. 

"Hold  your  mouth,  or  I'll  stop  it  for  you  so 
that  you'll  be  dumb  forever.     I'll  show  you 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     285 

what  'carrlon-meat'  means,  you  bloody  dog!" 

The  porter  went  on  his  way,  grumbling  and 
cursing.  Itsye  muttered  a  few  Imprecations  and 
turned  his  head  In  another  direction. 

"What  have  you  planted  yourself  here  for, 
In  everybody's  way?"  he  heard  a  surly  voice 
exclaim  behind  him. 

He  looked  around.  Kaplan,  the  shopkeeper, 
was  standing  in  the  doorway  of  his  shop,  eye- 
ing him  angrily.    He  replied  coarsely: 

"What  worry  is  that  of  yours?" 

Kaplan  grew  excited. 

"I'll  soon  show  you  what  worry  of  mine  It 
is !"  And  he  sent  the  errand-boy  after  a  police- 
man. 

As  he  ran  by  Itsye  the  boy  jeered,  with  mis- 
chievous eyes,  "Just  wait  a  moment!  You'll 
soon  have  a  good  drubbing!" 

Itsye  spitefully  refused  to  move.  To  hell 
with  everybody ! 

Now  then.  What  was  it  he  had  been  think- 
ing of  before?  And  his  glances  began  to  wan- 
der across  the   square   and  the   faces   of  the 


286  TEiMPTATIONS 

people,  as  he  tried  to  recall  his  previous 
thoughts.  When  he  noticed  the  boy  returning 
with  a  policeman  he  turned  his  head  indiffer- 
ently aside. 

"What  are  you  standing  here  for?  Move  on! 
Off  with  you!"  commanded  the  guardian  of 
order. 

Itsye  slowly  faced  about. 

"Is  this  spot  private  property,  what?" 

"Move  on,  I  tell  you!" 

Itsye  resumed  his  former  position. 

"Move  on!" 

The  official  was  now  in  an  ugly  mood  and 
had  raised  his  sabre. 

Itsye  felt  that  he  must  refuse  to  stir.  But 
something  moved  his  feet.  It  was  the  instinct 
that  a  policeman  must  be  obeyed. 

He  went  off.  Back  to  his  street.  Slowly, 
scarcely  moving  his  legs,  without  looking  back 
at  the  official. 

He  was  frozen  through  and  through.  It 
was  as  If  he  had  no  feet.  As  he  approached 
the  gate  to  his  house  he  felt  that  It  would  be 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     287 

pleasant  to  lie  down  a  while.  This  he  felt 
against  his  will.  He  must  remain  in  the  street 
because  he  was  filled  with  rage  and  must  vent  it 
in  some  vindictive  deed.  But  his  heavy,  frozen 
limbs  drew  him  to  his  attic,  where  it  was  fright- 
fully cold,  where  the  icy  wind  moaned  and 
whistled.  The  wind  was  not  so  noisy  here  be- 
low. It  seemed  that  his  feet  knew  he  would 
hunt  up  all  sorts  of  old  rags  and  wrap  them 
around  his  frozen  members. 

So  he  allowed  his  feet  to  carry  him  along. 
On  the  way  to  the  garret  they  overturned  a 
slop-pail  and  stumbled  across  a  cat.  It  was 
they,  too,  who  opened  the  door  of  his  room. 
The  door  flew  back  and  struck  against  some- 
thing soft.  The  soft  object  fell,  and  the  feet 
had  to  step  over  a  heap  of  tatters  out  of  which 
looked  the  parchment-yellow,  wrinkled,  peaked 
face  of  an  old  shrivelled-up  woman. 

"Wow — wow — wow!"  she  began  to  wail, 
hopelessly  enmeshed  in  her  rags.  It  was  the 
deaf-and-dumb  landlady  of  his  lodgings. 


288  TEMPTATIONS 

He  made  no  reply.  The  feet  were  already 
In  bed. 

He  slept  for  a  long  time.  It  was  already 
dark  when  the  feet  slipped  down  from  the  bed. 
At  once  he  recollected  that  he  was  angry,  and 
felt  his  ire  course  through  him.  But  he  was 
weary  and  weak.  So  weak,  in  fact,  that  he  de- 
cided not  to  get  up,  but  rather  to  lie  there  for- 
ever. "A  piece  of  bread!"  flitted  through  his 
mind.  He  could  behold  rows  of  well-provided 
houses,  countless  kitchens,  heaps  of  bread- 
loaves.  But  he  continued  to  lie  there,  because 
he  did  not  know, — could  not  begin  to  know,  how 
to  get  to  them. 

At  last  an  idea  flashed  upon  him.  "From  the 
deaf-and-dumb  old  witch!" 

He  arose  from  the  three-legged  bed  and 
walked  into  the  landlady's  room.  The  bundle 
of  rags  was  seated  at  the  table,  before  a  small 
night-lamp  that  lacked  a  chimney,  eating  from 
a  pot  of  water  containing  crumbled  bits  of  hard 
bread. 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     289 

He  approached  the  bundle  of  rags  and  indi- 
cated with  his  fingers  that  he  was  very  hungry 
and  wished  a  piece  of  bread.  She  clutched  the 
pot  more  tightly  and  began  to  bark  savagely. 
This  meant  that  she  hadn't  enough  for  herself, 
and  that  she  didn't  care  to  give  him  anything, 
anyway,  since  he  had  struck  her  with  the  door 
before,  throwing  her  over,  and  since  he  wasn't 
acting  properly,  not  having  paid  his  rouble  and 
a  half  rent  for  the  past  two  months. 

He  knew  very  well  just  what  her  barking 
signified,  and  eyed  her  as  if  deliberating  what 
course  to  pursue.  Quite  cold-bloodedly  he 
wrenched  the  pot  from  her  grasp,  pulled  out  a 
piece  of  bread  and  crammed  it  into  his  mouth. 
The  tattered  form  seized  him,  with  a  frightful, 
wailing  yelp,  and  drew  the  pot  toward  her.  He 
raised  it  above  her  reach  and  continued  to  chew. 
The  first  bite  had  excited  him.  He  began  to  eat 
faster,  swallowing  almost  without  chewing. 
The  old  woman  barked  and  howled  at  the  top 
of  her  voice,  pulling  at  his  arms.  He  thrust 
her  away.    She  fell  upon  her  knees,  grasped  his 


290  TEMPTATIONS 

legs  and  with  a  wild  gasping  and  snorting  bit 
into  them  with  her  gums,  in  which  stood  only 
two  side  teeth.  He  pressed  her  with  his  knees 
to  the  floor  and  sat  down  upon  her.  She  could 
no  longer  move. 

Now  he  would  eat  in  peace. 

He  stuck  his  fingers  into  the  pot  without  find- 
ing anything.  He  almost  yelled  with  fury.  His 
heart  began  to  spring  within  him;  his  eyes 
sparkled.  He  must  do  something.  He  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  cried  out,  wildly,  "More  bread, 
old  witch!" 

He  shoved  her  with  his  foot,  emptied  the  pot 
of  water  on  her  head  and  began  to  look  for 
bread.  He  found  nothing;  there  was  nothing 
to  be  found.  He  continued  his  search,  how- 
ever. He  overturned  the  old  chest,  scattered 
the  bedclothes,  broke  the  only  chair.  He  be- 
came furious,  not  knowing  what  he  did.  The 
old  woman  seized  him,  dragging  him  toward 
the  door  with  terrified  shrieks.  With  all  his 
might  he  thrust  her  off.  The  old  woman's  head 
struck  against  the  high  oven;  she  groaned  un- 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     291 

cannily.  Her  moaning  brought  him  to  his 
senses.  He  was  frightened,  and  held  in  his 
breath.  He  stepped  toward  her.  Was  she  still 
alive?  The  aged  landlady  began  to  arise.  He 
now  breathed  more  freely  and  dashed  out  of 
the  room. 

He  was  exhausted,  yet  excited.  He  desired 
to  weep, — to  weep  bitterly.  He  was  thor- 
oughly ashamed  of  the  encounter  with  the  deaf- 
and-dumb  landlady.  He  had  robbed  her  of  her 
wretched  supper  and  had  come  near  killing  her. 
And  his  hunger  was  now  greater  than  ever. 
"A-a-ah!" 

He  pressed  both  his  fists  to  his  mouth  and 
began  to  gnaw  at  them.  The  pain  grew  intense, 
yet  he  kept  on  gnawing.  He  wished  to  feel  his 
heart. 

The  door  opened  and  the  old  woman  ap- 
peared. A  narrow  shaft  of  light  shone  over 
the  dark  steps,  falling  like  a  grey  strip  upon 
Itsye's  shoulder.  But  the  old  woman  did  not 
see  him,  and  she  sent  after  the  supposedly  van- 
ished fellow  several  infuriated  screams,  more 


292  TEMPTATIONS 

cutting  than  the  most  devastating  curses.  Itsye 
shuddered,  stopped  chewing  his  hands  and  re- 
mained motionless,  holding  in  his  breath.  The 
landlady  returned  to  her  room  and  locked  the 
door. 

"Locked  out!"  flashed  through  his  mind  at 
once.  His  head  became  warm.  He  tried  to 
consider  what  was  now  to  be  done,  but  he  saw 
no  prospects  before  him.  He  felt  an  impulse 
to  batter  down  the  door,  enter  the  room,  get 
into  bed  and  lie  there.  He  had  already  rolled 
his  fists  into  a  ball.  But  after  striking  the  door 
a  resounding  blow,  he  ran  down  the  stairs. 
Only  when  he  had  reached  the  bottom  did  he 
ask  himself,  "Why  that  blow?" 

It  was  snowing  and  a  strong  wind  was  whis- 
tling and  moaning.  The  cold  went  right  through 
Itsye's  bones ;  he  began  to  tremble,  and  his  teeth 
knocked  together.  He  huddled  up  in  his  tat- 
tered cotton  coat,  from  which  there  hung 
patches,  strips  of  lining  and  wadding.  He 
groaned  in  despair  and  stepped  back  into  the 
entrance  of  the  house.     He  felt  a  tug  at  his 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     293 

heart,  and  was  once  more  seized  with  a  desire 
to  weep,  to  weep. 

"What  will  come  of  this?    What?" 
He  could  behold  no  answer.     He  would  to- 
day be  frozen  to  death  or  die  of  hunger. 
"Oh,  for  something  to  eat!     Food,  food!" 
He  looked  about.     He  was  standing  near  a 
cellar,  the  door  to  which  was  protected  by  a 
heavy  lock.    He  placed  his  hand  upon  the  lock, 
with  no  thought  of  robbery.    As  he  felt  the  cold 
iron,  however,  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  would 
be  a  good  idea  to  break  off  the  lock  and  obtain 
access  to  the  cellar.    He  pulled  at  the  lock.   No. 
This  was  beyond  his  strength.    He  repeated  the 
attempt,  and  at  length  summoned  all  his  force 
and  gave  a  violent  wrench. 

The  lock  merely  made  a  loud  noise;  nothing 
else.  He  was  intimidated  by  the  knock.  He 
looked  around  and  quickly  deserted  the  en- 
trance to  the  house. 

Had  he  really  desired  to  steal?  And  if  he 
had  succeeded  in  tearing  the  lock  away,  would 
he  really  have  entered  and  committed  theft? 


294  TEMPTATIONS 

He  could  not  believe  this.  He  had  been  born 
Into  poverty,  had  been  reared  as  an  orphan  In 
misery  and  Ill-treatment,  yet  his  hand  had  never 
been  raised  to  another's  property.  "Scandal- 
maker,"  they  used  to  call  him,  and  "wickedest 
of  the  wicked";  for  he  never  was  silent  when 
wronged,  and  all  were  his  enemies  because  of 
this  vindlctlveness.  Yet  these  selfsame  persons 
admitted  that  you  could  leave  heaps  of  gold 
with  him  In  perfect  security.  And  just  now  he 
had  been  on  the  point  of  stealing!  That  morn- 
ing he  had  also  thought  of  stealing.  What? 
Would  he  really  have  stolen?  And  perhaps 
yes.  Ah,  he  was  so  hungry!  "Food,  food, 
food!" 

Again  he  surveyed  the  neighbourhood.  He 
was  In  the  street!  He  had  not  even  noticed  It 
when  he  left  the  yard.  What  was  he  going  to 
do  in  the  street?  Whither  would  he  go?  "Oh, 
for  a  bite !"  But  there  was  no  sense  In  stand- 
ing here  In  the  street.  He  must  walk.  "Walk 
wherever  my  eyes  lead  me,  until  I  fall — fall, 
and  an  end  of  me!" 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     295 

Again  his  wrath  returned.  Anger  against 
himself  and  the  whole  world.  At  once,  how- 
ever, he  saw  that  he  lacked  the  strength  to  be 
angry, — that  his  heart  was  growing  weaker. 
"Food,  food,  food!" 

He  staggered  along,  casting  glances  in  every 
direction  and  knitting  his  brows  so  as  to  see 
more  clearly  through  the  thickly  falling  snow. 
He  had  no  notion  of  whither  he  was  going,  nor 
was  he  at  all  interested.  He  was  moving  so  as 
not  to  remain  on  the  same  spot.  He  peered 
more  Intently  than  ever,  although  he  felt  that 
he  would  see  nothing  but  large  snow-flakes.  One 
thing  he  knew  very  well,  that  he  wanted  and 
must  have  something  to  eat,  even  if  the  world 
came  to  an  end.  "Food,  food,  food!"  he 
groaned  within  him  desperately. 

He  reached  the  municipal  garden.  The 
pleasure-spot  was  situated  upon  a  high  hill,  at 
the  foot  of  which  flowed  the  broad,  deep  river. 
During  the  winter  there  was  usually  skating  on 
the  river,  and  above,  in  the  garden,  a  crowd  of 
curious  onlookers.     But  now  there  was  not  a 


296  TEMPTATIONS 

trace  of  a  human  being  in  the  garden.  Not 
even  the  lamps  were  visible  through  the  thick 
snow.  They  Illuminated  only  the  space  within 
a  few  paces  of  them.  Itsye  was  at  a  loss 
whether  to  feel  vexed  or  not  at  the  absence  of 
people.  He  did  not  look  back,  and  continued 
on  his  way.  He  approached  the  top  of  the  hill 
and  looked  down  upon  the  frozen  river.  He 
could  see  nothing.  There  came  to  his  ears  the 
shrill  blows  of  heavy  Iron.  Moujiks  were  open- 
ing a  hole  in  the  Ice.  And  In  his  weary  thoughts 
he  beheld  a  broad,  deep  hole  down  there,  and 
he  was  drawn  thither.  The  suggestion  came 
to  him  to  hurl  himself  down  from  the  hill  Into 
the  deep  stream.  He  would  raise  no  outcry;  he 
would  not  call  for  help.  He  would  drown  him- 
self quite  silently.  But  he  recognised  that  this 
was  merely  a  thought;  the  Important  thing 
was  that  he  felt  very  weak  and  was  ravenously 
hungry.  "Food,  food,  food !"  He  looked 
about,  as  if  he  would  have  liked  to  see  some- 
thing eatable  In  the  garden.  Before  him  was 
only  the  endlessly  falling  snow.     Snow  below 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     297 

him,  snow  on  the  bare  trees,  snow  in  the  air. 
His  legs  bent  beneath  him — now,  now  he  was 
about  to  fall.  But  he  did  not  wish  to  fall.  He 
desired  something  to  eat,  and  gathering  all  his 
strength  he  continued  his  wanderings.  Again 
he  moved  forward,  not  knowing  whither.  He 
walked  along  a  deserted  path,  through  drifts  of 
snow  that  fell  into  his  torn  shoes, — all  alone, 
the  only  living  creature  in  the  dark,  forsaken 
garden.  He  could  neither  hear  nor  see  any- 
thing. He  moved  along  because  he  had  no- 
where to  go,  and  particularly  because  he  wanted 
something  to  eat,  eat,  eat.  He  thought  of 
nothing,  nor  could  he  think  if  he  tried.  Some- 
thing was  driving  him  on,  and  he  continued  on 
his  way  with  the  despairing,  inner  groan,  "Food, 
food,  food!    ..." 

He  reached  the  square  before  the  theatre. 
The  bright  gleam  of  the  electric  lights  brought 
him  to  his  senses.  He  stopped.  As  he  did  so, 
he  came  near  falling.  He  stumbled  forward 
and  leaned  against  the  wall  of  a  building.  He 
felt  that  his  shoes  were  filled  with  snow.    This, 


298  TEMPTATIONS 

however,  produced  no  effect  whatever  upon  him. 
What  did  vex  him  was  that  he  could  scarcely 
stand  on  his  feet,  that  his  heart  was  fearfully 
weak  and  his  desire  for  food  persisted  in  grow- 
ing. He  would  remain  standing  there.  Whither 
else  should  he  go?  Here,  at  least,  it  was  light, 
and  soon  he  would  see  people.  Many  people, 
— rich,  happy.  And  what  of  it  if  he  should  see 
the  wealthy,  sated  crowd?  He  would  beg 
alms.  He  would  say  that  he  hadn't  eaten  for 
three  days. 

Ask  alms !  He  shuddered  with  repulsion  at 
the  idea.  But  he  was  so  terribly  hungry!  He 
had  been  on  the  point  of  stealing.  Which  was 
better,  stealing  or  begging?  He  leaned  against 
the  wall,  threw  his  head  back,  looked  with  a  dull 
glance  into  the  snowy  distance  and,  with  his 
blunted  mind,  sought  a  reply. 

The  night-watchman  approached  him  and 
pushed  him  away. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?" 

Itsye  scarcely  moved.  He  could  not  raise 
his  feet. 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     299 

"Do  you  want  to  be  arrested?" 

Itsye  nearly  fell;  he  was  greatly  excited,  but 
he  composed  himself  and  gathered  all  his 
strength  in  a  desperate  effort  to  walk  off,  Ouf ! 
He  could  not  feel  his  legs.  Hunks  of  ice !  He 
began  to  kick  one  foot  against  the  other. 

"Well!     Get  a  move  on!     Faster,  there!" 

Itsye  snarled  through  his  clamped  teeth. 

"Can't  you  see  I  can  barely  move?  What 
are  you  driving  me  for?  Better  ask  whether 
Fm  not  hungry!" 

He  crossed  the  street.  Several  stores  were 
still  open.  Hadn't  he  better  go  in  and  beg 
alms?  He  halted  before  a  window.  He  de- 
sired to  consider  what  to  do. 

"I  see  you !  T  see  you  over  there !"  he  heard 
the  watchman  shout. 

He  proceeded  further  along  the  street,  at  the 
other  end,  where  it  was  almost  pitch  dark. 
There  he  paused  for  a  while  to  kick  his 
feet  again.  Then  he  walked  along.  He 
made  a  circle  around  the  theatre  and 
came  to  a   halt  before  the  entrance.     There 


300  TEiMPTATIONS 

were  no  policemen  in  sight.  They  were 
inside  the  lobby  seeking  shelter  from  the  wind 
and  storm.  Itsye  remained  there,  hopping  now 
on  one  foot,  now  on  the  other.  Without  any 
definite  thoughts,  utterly  purposeless.  He  re- 
mained here  because  it  was  light,  because  in- 
side sat  wealthy,  sated  persons  enjoying  them- 
selves. He  recalled  that  he  had  never  been  to 
a  theatre.  He  had  never  been  able  to  spare  the 
price.  It  must  be  very  pleasant  inside  of  a 
theatre,  seeing  that  people  were  so  enthusiastic 
about  It.  Such  varieties  of  entertainment  folks 
devised  for  themselves !  And  he  must  stand 
outside,  covered  with  snow,  frozen,  hungry, 
and  would  be  joyful  If  he  found  a  piece  of 
bread!  His  anger  began  to  return.  And  he 
recollected  that  in  the  morning  he  had  desired 
to  do  something,  to  wreak  vengeance.  .  .  . 
Just  what  had  It  been?  He  wrinkled  his  fore- 
head.    Just  what  had  he  meant  to  do? 

"Ah!     Much  I  can  think  up  In  there,  now!" 

He  cried  this  out  with  an  Intense  self-scorn. 

He  was  terrified  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  and 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     301 

glanced  at  the  large  glass  doors.  Nobody  was 
looking  at  him;  then  he  had  not  been  heard. 
Whereupon  this  talking  to  himself  became 
pleasant.  It  afforded  distraction.  So  he  com- 
menced to  speak.  Detached  phrases, — frag- 
ments of  his  weary,  confused  thoughts. 

"I'll  think  up  something,  pah!  .  .  .  With 
a  knife.  .  .  .  Or  set  fire.  .  .  .  That's  what 
I  ought  to.  .  .  .  That's  something!  .  .  . 
Let  them  all  roast  alive!  .  .  .  What  am  I 
standing  here  for?  .  .  .  What  am  I  waiting 
for?  .  .  .  They  wouldn't  give  me  anything! 
.  .  .  They'd  rather  call  the  police !  .  .  . 
Kaplan, — may  the  fires  of  hell  seize  him!" 

He  did  not  cease  his  chatter.  And  the  more 
he  spoke,  the  angrier  he  grew.  He  forgot  his 
hunger,  he  now  "felt"  his  heart.  He  cursed 
with  imprecations  as  bitter  as  death  and  felt 
new  life  course  through  his  veins.  He  cast  all 
manner  of  accusations  upon  the  audience  inside, 
eating  and  drinking  its  fill  and  pursuing  all  man- 
ner of  pleasures. 

"To   steal   from  those  people   and  murder 


302  TEMPTATIONS 

them  is  not  a  bit  wrong !"  he  philosophised.  He 
was  now  in  a  mood  for  anything  at  all,  and 
would  commit  in  absolute  indifference  whatever 
suggested  itself.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his 
strength  could  cope  with  any  task  now, — that 
It  was  a  giant's  strength. 

The  glass  doors  swung  open.  The  gen- 
darmes appeared,  followed  Immediately  by  the 
crowd.  Itsye  remained  calmly  In  his  place.  He 
did  not  even  cease  talking  to  himself.  The  gen- 
darmes had  not  yet  noticed  him.  They  were 
busy  with  the  sleighs.  Itsye  was  therefore  able 
to  continue  his  conversation  undisturbed. 

"Here  they  are  already !"  he  said.  "They've 
had  a  good  time  and  plenty  to  eat  and  drink, 
the  dogs!  In  warm  fur  coats,  arm  in  arm  with 
their  wives,  or  even  with  prostitutes.    ..." 

A  few  passers-by  eyed  the  snow-covered  In- 
dividual. 

"Drunk  or  crazy,"  remarked  one  of  them. 
They  went  on  their  way.  Itsye  cried  after 
them: 

"You're  drunk  yourself!    I'm  not  drunk,  you 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN    303 

curs!  Fm  hungry,  you  pimps!  I  robbed  a 
poor  old  woman  of  her  supper,  you  scamps! 
...  I,  drunk!  You  curs!  .  .  .  I've  been 
hunting  work  for  a  month,  cholera  seize  you! 
Not  a  bit  in  my  mouth  for  three  days,  you 
dogs!    ..." 

A  gendarme  heard  his  voice  and  approached 
to  discover  who  was  shouting  and  cursing. 

"What  are  you  screaming  for?     Move!" 

The  officer  gave  him  a  violent  push. 

"What  are  you  shoving  about?"  cried  Itsye 
and  he  raised  his  hand  against  the  officer.  He 
felt  that  it  would  be  a  treat  to  deliver  a  slap, — 
a  fiery  slap.     He  waited  for  one  more  push. 

The  gendarme  noticed  his  gesture. 

"Ha,  you  Jewish  jaw!" 

Itsye's  hand  descended.  The  blow  resounded 
loudly.  A  crowd  gathered.  Itsye  desired  to 
repeat  the  act.  He  was  now  wild.  He  wished 
to  strike  about  him,  strangle  persons,  bite.  But 
he  received  a  hard  blow  upon  the  head.  He 
grew  dizzy  and  toppled  over.  Now  he  could 
feel   feet  upon  him.     He  knew  that  he  was 


304  TEMPTATIONS 

being  trampled  upon,  but  he  could  not  open  his 
eyes,  nor  could  he  move  a  limb.  Soon  he  was 
lifted  and  dragged  somewhere.  With  blows 
across  the  back,  the  head  and  the  stomach,  and 
with  the  ugliest  oaths.  He  could  not  protect 
himself.  He  could  not  even  speak.  Only  rave 
and  groan  horribly. 

Softer  and  weaker  became  the  raving  and 
the  groaning,  and  at  last  he  lay  quiet,  motion- 
less. Dense  darkness  hovered  over  him,  en- 
veloped him,  engulfed  him.  His  eyes  were 
closed,  but  he  felt  the  darkness.  Like  a  heavy 
load  it  pressed  down  upon  him.  He  knew,  in 
an  obscure  way,  that  he  had  struck  somebody 
and  had  been  beaten  up  badly  in  return.  And 
now  he  was  quiet  and  peaceful,  and  he  won- 
dered at  the  peaceful  feeling.  He  began  to 
grope  about  with  his  hands,  his  eyes  still  closed. 
He  struck  against  a  hard,  dusty  floor.  Where 
could  he  be?  The  question  flew  through  his 
entire  being  In  a  most  undlstlngulshable  manner. 
With  a  great  effort  he  raised  his  eyebrows. 
The  dense  gloom  settled  upon  his  open  eyes. 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     305 

He  could  see  nothing  and  his  eyes  shut  heavily 
again.  Once  more  he  began  to  scrape  about 
with  his  hands  and  opened  his  eyes.  Wider, 
this  time.  Something  dazzled  him.  Above,  on 
the  ceiling,  shone  a  small  grey  light.  It  en- 
tered from  the  single  window,  which  was  built 
in  high  on  the  wall.  Itsye  looked  first  at  the 
strip  of  light  and  then  at  the  little  window  with 
the  iron  bars.  He  eyed  it  for  a  long  time.  As 
one  who  has  awaked  from  a  dream  and  has  not 
yet  come  to  himself. 

Suddenly  his  blood  rushed  to  his  head.  He 
sat  up  quickly.  He  recognised  the  bars  and 
now  realised  that  he  was  in  jail.  They  had 
given  him  a  good  rubbing  and  had  cast  him  into 
a  dark  hole.  He  became  strangely  warm.  In 
a  moment's  time  he  foresaw  everything  that 
awaited  him :  the  blows  that  were  yet  in  store, 
— the  trial  and  the  sentence, — prison  and  the 
prisoners'  ward  work.  He  groaned  in  deep 
despair.  Ah!  And  now  he  felt  that  his  head 
pained  excruciatingly;  his  face  and  his  whole 
body,  likewise.     He  hastened  to  feel  his  head 


3o6  TEMPTATIONS 

and  his  face.  His  hat  was  gone.  His  hair  was 
moist  and  sticky.  He  touched  an  open  wound. 
With  his  fingers  he  followed  the  sticky  trail. 
Blood  everywhere.  On  his  head,  all  over  his 
face  and  on  his  bare  chest. 

He  had  a  desire  to  weep  at  his  great  misery 
and  boundless  despair. 

"Father!"  he  wished  to  cry,  and  "Mother, 
dear!"  and  "God!"  Words  that  he  had  rarely 
used;  beings  he  had  never  known.  His  heart 
contracted  bitterly  and  he  lay  with  his  face  to 
the  floor;  his  body  shook  convulsively  with  his 
deep  lamentation. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  was  he  weeping 
so.  His  was  a  bitter  nature,  and  as  often  as 
life  had  brought  him  tears  he  had  been  able 
always  to  swallow  them.  He  knew  that  his 
tears  would  soften  nobody, — that  they  would 
only  make  him  ridiculous.  They  would  mock 
him  as  a  soft-hearted  fool;  and  that  must  never 
be.  With  teeth  clenched  together  this  wretched 
orphan  had  gone  through  life  in  eternal  hostil- 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     307 

ity  to  all  about  him.  His  eyes  had  been  often 
suffused  with  blood,  but  never  with  tears. 

Now,  however,  he  neither  could  nor  desired 
to  hold  them  back.  He  wept  until  the  tears  re- 
fused to  come.  Then  he  was  overcome  by  a 
fainting  sensation,  and  he  thought  that  death 
was  near.  It  would  come  to  him  just  as  he  lay 
there.  He  stretched  himself  out,  closed  his 
eyes  and  waited  for  death.  To  lie  thus,  to  fall 
asleep  forever  and  cease  to  be.  To  be  liberated 
once  for  all  from  the  desolate  days  behind  him 
and  from  all  the  misery  ahead. 

He  yearned  for  death. 

"Ah,  to  die!" 

Before  his  sight  there  began  to  float  dead 
bodies  that  he  had  seen  during  his  life.  Such 
he  desired  now  to  become.  Then  he  beheld  be- 
fore him  the  hanging  form  of  water-carrier 
Kirlllo.  All  at  once  he  sat  up.  A  certain 
thought  had  raised  him:  he,  too,  would  hang 
himself.  This  waiting  for  death  would  not  do. 
He  would  not  die  so  soon,  if  he  waited.  He 
peered  into  the  thick  darkness  and  thought.  The 


3o8  TEMPTATIONS 

impression  of  his  whole  life  rose  before  him. 
Not  a  single  day  of  happiness;  not  a  moment  of 
rest.  Years  of  unceasing  care  and  of  constant 
struggle,  of  laborious  toil  and  frequent  hunger. 
And  the  future  threatened  still  worse.  As  black 
as  the  dense  gloom  about  him.  Long  years  of 
incarceration,  in  the  prisoners'  ranks,  and  then 
— hunger  once  more. 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  the  iron  bars  of  the 
window  and  felt  the  thick  rope  by  which  his 
trousers  were  held  in  place.  Then  he  looked 
around  and  cocked  his  ear.  Was  anybody 
there?  He  heard  no  sound.  He  could  scarcely 
lift  himself  up.  His  legs  barely  sustained  him 
and  he  was  so  dizzy.  He  reached  out  to  the 
wall  and  leaned  for  a  moment  against  it.  Then, 
with  soft  step,  he  investigated  the  room,  grop- 
ing about  with  hands  outstretched.  Nobody 
was  there.  He  had  frightened  some  mice  and 
could  hear  the  patter  of  their  retreating  paws. 
He  stopped  at  the  window  and  stretched  his 
arms  upward.  He  could  not  reach  the  bars. 
In  one  of  the  corners,  however,  there  was  a 


A  TALE  OF  A  HUNGRY  MAN     309 

bench,  against  which  he  had  stumbled  as  he 
groped  about  the  cell.  With  difficulty 
he  dragged  it  over  to  the  window.  The 
effort  so  weakened  him  that  he  was  forced  to 
sit  down.  Slowly  he  untied  the  rope  around  his 
trousers.  He  began  to  fashion  a  noose,  lapsing 
into  thought  as  he  did  so.  Once  more  he  looked 
back  upon  the  wretched  past  and  forward  into 
the  dark  future.  Again  he  could  see  not  a  ray 
of  light  neither  behind  nor  before.  With  teeth 
tightly  clamped  he  made  the  knot  and  cursed 
life,  and  his  heart  seethed  with  bitter  hatred  for 
all  humankind.  With  the  self-same  noose  that 
he  was  now  making,  how  gladly  would  he  have 
encircled  the  necks  of  every  human  being  and 
strangled  the  whole  world.    So,  and  so,  and  so ! 

The  noose  had  been  ready  for  a  long  time, 
yet  he  still  sat  meditating.  He  cursed  and  be- 
rated humanity,  calling  down  upon  it  all  manner 
of  misfortune.  Ah,  how  gladly  he  would  re- 
venge himself  upon  them ! 

Gradually  one  thing  became  clear  to  him. 
His  death  in  itself  would  be  a  good  vengeance. 


310  TEMPTATIONS 

When  day  should  come,  and  they  would  prepare 
to  resume  their  Ill-treatment  of  him,  they  would 
find  him  dead.  Ba-a-a!  A  plague  upon  all  of 
them !  Good-bye,  Itsye !  No  more  Itsye !  No 
more  Itsye  to  oppress,  to  persecute,  to  aban- 
don to  starvation !  They  would  stand  before 
his  corpse  like  whipped  curs,  crestfallen,  and 
would  vent  their  Intense  disappointment  in  a 
vile  oath.    Ah,  that  was  a  precious  thought! 

He  sprang  hastily  to  his  feet,  jumped  upon 
the  chair,  reached  to  the  bars  and  tied  the  rope 
around  them.  His  hands  trembled;  he  shook 
with  fever.  He  poked  his  head  into  the  noose 
and  kicked  over  the  bench. 

And  as  the  rope  tightened  he  was  seized  with 
a  desire  to  laugh.  To  laugh  like  a  conqueror, 
like  a  master.  But  his  eyes  began  to  bulge  out, 
his  tongue  protruded,  and  his  face  turned  a  pale 
blue. 

But  the  protruding  tongue  still  mocked. 

"Ba-a!  Good-bye,  Itsye!  No  more  It- 
sye 


T " 


IN  THE  STORM 


A 


IN  THE  STORM 

PIOUS  woman  told  it  to  me  as  a  warning 
to  sinners,  to  the  young,  to  the  moderns. 


Black  clouds  began  to  fleck  the  clear  sky. 
Dense,  heavy  storm-clouds.  At  first  far  off, 
beyond  the  forest,  but  very  soon  they  darkened 
the  whole  sky  over  the  village.  A  violent  wind 
lashed  and  drove  them  on,  and  they  sped  under 
its  whip,  angry  and  sullen,  menacing.  The  wind 
— a  tornado — raged  in  all  the  consciousness  of 
its  formidable  power,  raising  pillars  of  dust  as 
high  as  the  driven  clouds,  tearing  off  roofs  and 
uprooting  trees. 

Terror    had    descended    upon    the    village. 

Bright  day  had  of  a  sudden  turned  to  night, 

such  as  well  befitted  the  Sabbath  of  Repentance, 

the    Sabbath   before    the    Day   of   Atonement. 

...   As    frightfully    dark,    as    oppressively 

heavy  as  a  pious  Jew's  heart, 

313 


314  TEMPTATIONS 

Folks  shut  themselves  up  in  their  houses,  fas- 
tening windows  and  locking  doors.  The  earnest 
faces  of  the  penitent  Jews  became  still  more 
earnest.  The  depressing  moods  of  the  Sabbath 
of  Repentance  waxed  still  more  depressing.  God 
was  scolding.  The  sad  voices  of  the  psalm- 
singers  became  deeper  and  more  tearful. 

The  darkness  grew  blacker  and  blacker.  Then 
old  Chyene  raised  her  eyes  from  the  psalms, 
looked  through  her  spectacles  Into  the  street, 
uttered  *'Au-hu!"  with  trembling  heart  and 
heaved  a  sigh. 

For  a  while  she  sat  gazing  outside.  She 
shook  her  head.  Her  whole  soul  was  full  of 
God's  omnipotence. 

It  refused  to  grow  lighter.  The  clouds 
passed  by  in  endless  procession,  and  the  wind 
howled,  whirling  thick  pillars  of  dust  in  its 
path. 

She  could  recite  psalms  no  longer.  She  re- 
moved her  spectacles  and  placed  them  between 
the  pages  of  her  thick  woman's  prayer-book, 


IN  THE  STORM  315 

rose  from  her  seat  and  went  into  her  daughter's 
room. 

"What  do  you  say  to  .  .  ." 

She  did  not  conclude  her  question.  Her 
daughter  was  not  there. 

The  old  woman  surveyed  the  room,  looked 
into  the  kitchen,  then  returned  to  the  room. 
Her  daughter's  bonnet  was  not  in  its  place. 
With  quivering  hands  she  opened  the  closet. 
The  jacket  was  missing! 

She  had  gone!  And  she  had  warned  her 
daughter,  it  seemed,  not  to  go  out  to-day, — that 
on  the  Sabbath  of  Repentance,  at  least,  she 
might  remain  at  home  and  not  run  off  to  that 
"Apostate,"  the  former  student. 

Her  aged  countenance  became  as  dark  as  the 
sky  without.  And  her  heart  grew  as  furious  as 
the  storm.  She  gazed  about  the  room  as  if 
seeking  to  vent  her  rage, — strike  somebody, 
break  something. 

"Oh,  may  she  no  longer  be  a  daughter  of 
mine!"   escaped   in   angry  outburst   from   her 


3i6  TEMPTATIONS 

storming  bosom,  and  she  raised  her  hand  to 
heaven. 

She  was  not  affrighted  by  the  curse  that  her 
lips  had  uttered  on  this  solemn  Sabbath.  At 
this  moment  she  could  curse  and  shriek  the  bit- 
terest words.  She  could  have  seized  her  now 
by  the  hair,  and  slapped  her  face  ruthlessly. 

Suddenly  she  threw  a  shawl  over  her  head 
and  dashed  out  of  the  house. 

She  would  hunt  them  both  out  and  would 
visit  an  evil  end  upon  both  of  them. 

A  flash  of  lightning  rent  the  clouds,  and  was 
followed  by  reverberating  thunder.  Then  flash 
upon  flash  of  lightning  and  crash  upon  crash  of 
thunder.  One  more  blinding  than  the  other, 
one  louder  than  the  other! 

The  horror  of  the  population  grew  greater. 
That  It  should  thunder  on  the  Sabbath  of  Re- 
pentance, and  In  such  demoniac  fashion!  All 
hearts  were  touched,  all  souls  went  out  in 
prayer. 

Old  Chyene,  however,  scarcely  noticed  this. 

The  wind  blinded  her  eyes  with  dust,  tore  her 


IN  THE  STORM  317 

scarf  from  her,  blew  her  skirts  about,  twisted 
the  wig  on  her  old  head. 

She  rushed  along  oblivious  to  all. 

She  neither  heard  nor  saw  anything  before 
her.  Within  her  It  thundered  and  raged,  it 
stormed  and  something  drove  her  on.  And  be- 
fore her  all  was  dark,  for  her  eyes  were  shot 
with  blood. 

Her  small  form  grew  even  smaller.  She 
strode  along  fairly  doubled  up,  hastening 
breathlessly.  She  seemed  to  go  faster  than 
the  wind.  The  wind  lagged  behind  her.  And 
whenever  It  caught  up  with  her,  It  only  spurred 
her  on,  and  she  quickened  her  step. 

She  did  not  look  around,  did  not  remark  the 
Inquisitive  eyes  that  peered  at  her  from  behind 
the  fastened  windows  by  which  she  ran.  She 
neither  saw  nor  heard  anything.  Her  entire 
being  was  merged  with  the  fury  of  nature.  Her 
thought  was  a  curse,  a  horrible  curse,  a  deadly 
curse.  Not  in  words.  But  in  her  whole  soul. 
Within  her  it  cried,  it  thundered, — drowning 
out  the  thunder  of  the  black,  angry  clouds. 


3 1 8  TEMPTATIONS 

She  stormed  into  the  "apostate's"  house. 
She  opened  the  door  with  a  loud  bang  and 
closed  it  with  one  even  louder.  Those  in  the 
room  shuddered  at  the  sudden  intrusion  and 
jumped  to  their  feet.  She  cast  a  wild,  hostile 
glance  at  them  and  dashed  through  the  rooms, 
from  one  to  the  other,  from  the  other  to  a 
third.  She  tore  the  doors  open  and  slammed 
them  behind  her,  accompanied  by  the  thunder, 
as  if  in  a  wager  as  to  which  of  them  would 
make  the  panes  and  the  windows  rattle  more 
violently.  A  little  child  took  fright  and  began 
to  cry.  She  ran  from  room  to  room,  but  neither 
he  nor  her  daughter  was  there. 

Then  she  flew  back.  On  the  threshold,  how- 
ever, she  paused  for  a  moment.  She  rolled  her 
eyes  heavenward  and  raised  her  arms  to  God. 

"May  flames  dev^our  this  house!"  came  from 
her  In  a  hoarse  voice. 

Then  she  departed,  pulling  the  street-door 
violently  and  leaving  It  open.  The  household 
stood  agape,  as  if  the  storm  Itself  had  torn  Into 


IN  THE  STORM  319 

the  home.  Out  of  sheer  stupefaction  the  per- 
sons forgot  to  close  their  mouths. 

Out  of  the  clouds  poured  a  drenching  rain 
mixed  with  hail.  The  tempest  seethed  like  a 
cauldron. 

This  boiling  tempest,  however,  raged  in 
Chyene's  bosom.  Something  stormed  furiously 
within  her.  She  no  longer  felt  the  ground  be- 
neath her.  The  flood  soaked  her  through  and 
through,  but  this  could  not  restrain  her.  It 
served  only  to  augment  her  savage  mood. 

She  ran  from  house  to  house,  wherever  she 
might  have  expected  to  come  upon  her  daughter 
and  the  "apostate."  She  stopped  nowhere,  ut- 
tered never  a  word,  but  dashed  in  and  then 
sped  out  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  leaving  the 
household   open-mouthed   with   astonishment. 

She  should  find  them!  Even  under  the 
ground.  And  she  did  not  cease  her  cursing  and 
her  maledictions. 

As  she  rushed  from  the  last  house  she  paused 
for  a  moment.     Whither  now? 

She  turned  homeward.     Her  heart  told  her 


320  TEMPTATIONS 

that  her  daughter  was  now  at  home.  Her  lips 
muttered  the  most  terrible  imprecations,  and  the 
inner  fury  was  at  Its  height;  the  very  air,  it 
seemed  to  her,  was  laden  with  her  cries,  with 
her  curses  and  oaths. 

With  a  strong  gust  of  wind,  a  flash  of  light- 
ning and  a  crash  of  thunder,  she  tore  into  her 
home. 

Her  daughter  was  not  there. 

She  sank  upon  a  chair  and  burst  into  wailing. 

There  was  a  terrifying  crash  of  thunder.  One 
of  those  thunderclaps  that  work  the  most  wide- 
spread havoc.  Nature  seemed  to  be  shaking 
off  the  entire  residue  of  energy  that  had  been 
left  to  her  by  the  hot  summer. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  village  were  rooted 
to  the  spot  In  terror.  They  looked  about,  then 
ventured  a  glance  outside.  Hadn't  some  mis- 
fortune occurred?  The  penitents  buried  their 
faces  deeper  than  ever  in  their  prayer-books, 
and  more  than  ever  their  voices  quivered. 

Chyene,  however,  had  apparently  not  heard 
the  thunder.     She  continued  to  wail,  to  wail  bit- 


IX  THE  STORM  321 

terly.    Then  a  wild  cry  issued  from  her  throat, 
as  wild  as  the  thunder: 

"May  she  not  live  to  come  home !     May  they 
bring  her  to  me  dead!     Oh,  Lord  of  the  uni- 


verse!" 


The  clouds  replied  with  a  clap  of  thunder  and 
the  wind  sped  apace,  shrieking. 

Suddenly  she  arose  and  dashed  out  as  before. 
The  wind  accompanied  her.  Now  it  thrust  her 
forward  from  behind,  now  it  ran  ahead  like  a 
faithful  dog,  smiting  all  in  its  path,  raising  the 
dirt  from  the  road  and  mixing  it  with  the  thick 
drops  that  fell  from  the  clouds,  which  were  still 
black,  and  with  the  seething  drops  that  coursed 
from  her  burning  eyes. 

She  was  running  to  the  road  just  beyond  the 
village. 

They  had  surely  gone  for  a  walk  on  the  road, 
where  they  had  been  seen  several  times.  She 
would  meet  them  on  the  way,  or  in  Jonah's  inn 
near  the  big  forest. 

On  the  Gentile's  lane,  the  last  one  of  the  vil- 
lage, the  dogs  in  the  yards  heard  her  hastening 


322  TEMPTATIONS 

steps  upon  the  drenched  earth.  Some  of  them 
began  to  bark  behind  the  gates,  not  caring  to 
venture  out  into  the  rain;  others  were  not  so 
lazy  and  crawled  out  from  under  the  gates  with 
an  angry  yelping.  She  neither  saw  nor  heard 
them,  however.  She  only  gazed  far  out  over 
the  road,  which  began  at  the  lane,  and  ran 
along. 

One  dog  seized  her  skirt,  which  had  become 
heavy  with  the  water.  She  did  not  heed  this, 
and  dragged  the  animal  along  for  part  of  the 
way,  until  it  tired  of  keeping  pace  with  her  in 
the  pelting  downpour.  So  it  released  her  skirt. 
For  a  moment  it  thought  of  seizing  her  in  some 
other  spot,  but  at  once,  with  a  sullen  growl,  it 
set  out  for  its  yard. 

On  the  road  the  wind  became  still  stronger. 
And  the  thunder  re-echoed  here  with  thousands 
of  reverberations  from  the  neighbouring  forest. 
Chyene  looked  only  straight  before  her,  into 
the  distance,  through  the  dense,  water-laden  at- 
mosphere. 

The  way  was  strewn  with  heaps  of  twigs  and 


M 


IN  THE  STORM  323 

branches  that  had  been  severed  by  the  lightning, 
and  even  a  fe(v  trees  lay  before  her,  torn  up 
from  their  very  roots,  and  charred. 

"Would  to  God  that  the  thunder  would 
strike  them  even  so!"  she  muttered. 

She  was  consumed  by  an  inner  cry.  Now  she 
had  found  a  definite  form  for  all  her  curses. 
The  thunder  up  yonder  had  torn  it  from  her. 

And  she  ran  on,  on.   ... 

But  what  is  this  here? 

A  few  paces  before  her  lie  two  persons.  A 
man  and  a  woman.  With  contorted  visages. 
In  writhing  positions.  Their  faces  black  as 
earth,  their  eyes  rolled  back.  Two  corpses, 
struck  by  lightning. 

There  was  a  brilliant  flash,  followed  by  a 
deafening  thunderclap. 

She  recognised  her  daughter. 

More  by  her  clothes  than  by  her  charred 
countenance;  more  by  her  entire  figure  than  by 
the  horribly  staring  whites  of  her  eyes. 

The  girl's  arm  lay  beneath  that  of  the  young 


324  TExMPTATIONS 

man.  The  top  of  the  open  umbrella  in  the 
youth's  hand  had  been  burned  off. 

The  old  woman  was  on  the  point  of  shrieking 
a  curse,  of  adding  her  thunder  to  the  fury  of 
the  storm's  thunder;  her  eyes  flashed  together 
with  the  lightning;  In  her  heart  there  arose  a 
devastating  tempest. 

She  wished  to  cry  out  the  most  evil  of  words, 
— that  the  dead  maiden  had  earned  her  end. 
She  desired  to  send  after  her  the  most  wretched 
and  degrading  of  names. 

Suddenly,  however,  all  grew  black  before 
her.  A  flood  of  molten  lead  seemed  to  pour 
into  her  head.  Weariness  and  trembling  fell 
upon  her.  Her  garments,  saturated  with  the 
rain,  seemed  to  drag  her  to  the  earth.  Her 
eyes  were  extinguished. 

The  thunder  and  lightning  and  shrieking  of 
the  wind  broke  out  anew. 

But  within  the  old  woman  all  was  quiet,  dark, 
dead.  She  sank  to  her  knees  before  the  corpse 
of  her  daughter,  stretched  over  the  body  her 


IN  THE  STORM  325 

trembling  arms,  and  a  dull  flame  flickered  up  in 
her  eyes. 

Her  entire  being  quivered.  Her  teeth 
knocked  together.  And  with  a  hoarse,  toneless 
voice  she  gasped : 

"My  darling  daughter!  Hennye,  my  dar- 
ling!"' 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
Thisfbook  is  DUE  on  die  last  date  stamped  below. 


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